


Date with the Hangman

by M3zzaTh3M3z



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Dates, Bullying, Family Issues, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, hangman's knot spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-09-24 02:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20351068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M3zzaTh3M3z/pseuds/M3zzaTh3M3z
Summary: Before the scary police lady put him back in jail, Will had just enough time to secure the kind of date with the hangman he'd really wanted. Now he's out, he needs to pull off the perfect first date before Vincent leaves Widdershins again.Only two problems:1. He has no idea what he's doing.2. One night's adventure is no guarantee of compatibility in real life.With time ticking on and his life still shaken from the past few weeks, Will must prove he's the person Vincent thinks he is, or risk disappointing the one person he really doesn't want to.





	1. Romantic, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome to possibly my longest Widderfic yet! (well it might end up shorter after edits are done but it has chapters and everything still!)
> 
> This was planned back in April when I didn't have a clue how things would turn out (like how was I supposed to see a month's timeskip coming??) so it starts on Sunday, the day after Will was supposed to be hanged, and he's also back at uni. I don't think there's much else changed from canon that won't be apparent in the text, and a few smaller things have been changed from my original plan to fit with canon.
> 
> Update Schedule: we've got 5 chapters plus an epilogue scene if nothing changes too much in edits and I'll be aiming to post Thursdays and Mondays, probably in the evenings. So last should be posted on the 9th September (if I can count) for those who like to wait for something to finish to read. This is to give me time to edit and also for people to read.
> 
> Anyway if you follow me on tumblr you probably know how excited I am about this one, so I really hope you enjoy! <3

One hand on the apothecary’s doorknob, Will paused, taking a deep breath. In the window his reflection frowned as he touched up his hair, then slid away as he pushed open the door. The bell jangled against his nerves, but none of the browsing customers looked around. Actually, _shit, _he hadn’t realised there’d be other people around. This was a bad idea, maybe he should come back later or -

“What are you doing here?”

Will cringed as Eliza emerged from the back room, a jar of something bright green under one arm. “Oh, hey Eliza,” he said, plastering on a grin. “Just stopping by, saying hi, that’s all.”

“Uh huh.” In a flurry of motion, Eliza rang up the price for the old woman stood at the till and handed over the jar. “Well, you’ve said hi. See ya.”

“Hold on, I haven’t seen Parsley yet.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes, then jerked her thumb towards the stairs. “She’s sleeping over there. Won’t be happy if you wake her.”

Will winked as he passed. “Everyone’s always happy to see me.”

Eliza didn’t respond. Probably busy with her next customer.

Settling onto the step two below Parsley, Will reached up and scratched her gently between the ears, until she was purring under his touch. Occasionally he caught Eliza giving him odd looks, but she didn’t actively kick him out so he took it as a good sign. She’d helped save his life only a few days before, surely she’d help with one more little thing? And it _was_ just a little thing, he kept reminding himself, especially compared to escaping prison and breaking into university and foiling a conspiracy and all that. Compared to that night, this was _nothing._ Just… a nothing that made him want to curl into a ball, or bolt out the room, or use the method on himself to calm the hell down? Basically nothing.

Eventually, the shop cleared and Eliza, after flipping the sign to closed, hopped onto the counter and raised her eyebrows. “So what did you do this time?”

“Why do you assume I’ve done something?”

“It’s a safe assumption to make,” Eliza said and Will relaxed a little as he realised she was trying not to smile. “Sorted things with jail and all then?”

Will pulled Parsley onto his lap, wincing as she gnawed the back of his hand. “Oh, no problem,” he said airily. “Just smiled and asked nicely, they let me go right away.”

“You mean your dad paid the fine.”

“Ah, yes...” Better that than the shame of a son in debtor’s prison, Will supposed, and another reign to control him. A new favourite weapon to bring up whenever he stepped out of line. Not if he could help it. “I’ll pay him back. Somehow.”

“Huh. Good for you.” Leaning back, Eliza crossed her legs and her expression suddenly changed to sharp interest. “Obviously I’m glad you’re out now and whatever but… wanna tell me why you’re really here?”

Despite waiting about twenty minutes to have the chance to do so, Will suddenly found that actually no, he really, _really_ didn’t want to. “I, uh -” He needed a good excuse for coming to Eliza’s shop and hanging around until everyone else was gone to talk to her. Or any excuse, it would be less embarrassing than the real thing. “I… have chlamydia?”

“No you don’t,” Eliza replied instantly, folding her arms.

Will sighed, leaning back against the steps. “No, you’re right, I don’t, that was stupid.”

“Want to try again?”

“Please.” Parsley nuzzled against his hand and Will listened to her low purring as he built up the courage to continue. “Right, so, remember the other night, when Vincent broke me out of prison and -”

“Yes Will, I forgot the most interesting night of my life instantly.”

Okay, so not the best lead in. “Anyway, now I’m really - uh -” And there was that feeling in his stomach again, the one that squirmed and made him want to hide. He needed Eliza’s help, yes, but maybe she didn’t need to know exactly what she was helping with. “Grateful?” Will finished. It sounded about right. “Yes, grateful! To Vincent. So I asked him to dinner, to say thank you.” He grinned and tried to look relaxed. The confidence thing was harder with Eliza, but he’d had a _lot_ of practice. About twenty years.

Frowning, Eliza cocked her head to one side. “I helped too, ya know.”

“And I really do appreciate it.”

“Don’t I get a thank you?”

Will swallowed. “Yes, of course, but -”

“I _did_ find the note leading us to the meeting. And fight off pretty much all those jerks. And generally saved your neck. Literally.”

“And you did a great job of it!”

“But not great enough to get dinner?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Grinning, Eliza pulled a notebook and pencil from nowhere and started scribbling something down. “Great, so I’ll see you there?”

“I think Vincent was expecting it to be just us…” Will tried desperately.

“I’m his best friend, he won’t mind.

“But -”

She snapped her head up again and Will knew he was done. “Unless you’ve got a particular reason you don’t want me there?”

Burying his head in his hands, Will groaned. He should have stayed in that cell. “It’s not like that, it’s just -” Awkward as this was, he couldn’t help smiling a little. Vincent was the one good thing to come out of, well, the past year really. Maybe longer. Even with all that had happened, he could recall Eliza’s words in the Depths, or Vincent’s smile, and get this ridiculous little blip of happiness. He’d never felt anything like it before. “Well, you said he likes me… And… I like him too, quite a lot actually.”

“No shit,” Eliza said, looking very unimpressed, which was very rude when Will was pouring his soul out or whatever.

An unimpressed audience had never stopped him before though. “So it’s not so much a ‘thank you’ dinner as a, um, date?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What?” He looked up to find Eliza smirking.

“I was just messing with ya. Knotty came in yesterday, first thing after the Captain let him go. Told me all about it.”

Will scowled, his cheeks hot. Yes he could flirt, flirting was _easy,_ a game, but he wasn’t any good at all this other stuff, and Eliza wasn’t helping. Coming here had been a stupid idea. He got to his feet and started down the stairs. “I’m glad to be of some amusement to you at least.”

“Will, wait, I’m sorry,” Eliza said, slipping down from the counter. She crossed to meet him and laid a hand on the banister. “I wasn’t _just_ winding you up. I mean, yeah it was funny, but I mostly needed to check how serious you are.”

“Entirely,” Will replied instantly. “I wouldn’t mess him around, I swear.”

For a long moment Eliza looked at him, before nodding. “That’s what I told him. See, I’m usually right.”

Will’s stomach squirmed. “He was worried about that?”

“Knotty worries about _everything,__” _Eliza said, her voice full of fond exasperation. “It was worse than when we were ten and he was stressing over whether the grocer’s boy _actually_ smiled at him, or if it was like a _general_ smile, or -” She waved her hand vaguely and Will tried to look like he wasn’t irrationally jealous of Vincent’s childhood crush. “He got worried he’d misunderstood and didn’t want to get his hopes up.”

Happiness blipped again, as intoxicating as the first time, when Vincent beamed at him and he’d known leaping down from the vents was the right choice. “He’s excited?”

“Uh huh,” Eliza replied, like it wasn’t the most amazing news ever.

When Will had asked Vincent, caught up in the euphoric rush following the last minute rescue, he’d blushed a lot (_gods_ was it adorable) and Will thought he’d looked pleased stammering his agreement. But when the high collapsed, and all the thoughts Will used to excel at ignoring wormed through the new cracks in his defences, he wondered if maybe Vincent had only agreed to be polite, or because he’d been exhausted and elated to have survived, or maybe he’d actually said no and Will remembered wrong? Thoughts weren’t as trustworthy as they used to be. 

“A little terrified too,” Eliza added, crashing Will’s mood.

“What? Why?”

Shrugging, Eliza wandered back behind the counter, and Parsley bounded down after her. “Gimme sec.”

Will followed her and peered over the counter as she crouched, rummaging for something underneath. “What are you looking for?”

“Got it. Catch.” Eliza tossed something small and shiny, and Will somehow managed to grab it from the air. He opened his fist to a tiny little vial of clear liquid, with a spray top.

“What’s this?”

“Cologne that Knotty likes. You can have that sample. That’s why you’re here, right? To ask for help?”

Will beamed, tucking the vial into a pocket. This was a great start. If Vincent got close enough to notice then - he shut down those thoughts before he could embarrass himself further and focused on the present. “Yes! Everything needs to be _perfect! _So, what do I do?”

“How should I know?” Eliza replied, scoffing. “The cologne thing’s all I’ve got. But Knotty’s a sweet guy. Just be romantic or whatever, can’t be that hard.”

Will had never tried romance before, but it seemed simple enough. It brought very specific images to mind - candlelight, roses, chivalry… Basically showmanship, right? And if there was one thing he excelled at, it was showmanship. Twenty years of practice and all that.

“He really does like you, so just, ya know, don’t fuck it up, and you’ll be fine.”

Not fucking it up wasn’t one of Will’s skills, but now he had a goal everything seemed much easier. “Romantic, huh? I can do that.”

“Great. Now shoo. I’ve got to get this place sorted before the meeting, and you’ve got a date to plan. Tomorrow night, right?”

“Right.” Will couldn’t help grinning. Excitement rippled through him, smothering the nerves. He’d make this perfect for Vincent. “Thanks Eliza,” he said as he opened the door, and although she rolled her eyes he caught the hint of a smile from her.

“See ya,” she replied, then paused. “You can, uh. Drop by sometime. To tell me about it.”

“Will do,” Will promised, shooting fingers guns, and slipped out the door before she could yell at him to get out.

Twenty-four hours later, Will stood in his shorts, leafing through his clothes in his dorm wardrobe. Almost every last detail of the date (Christ, he really was going on a date!) had been planned, except for this. He never usually struggled to decide what to wear, but time was ticking on and nothing seemed _right._

His hand settled on his purple suit. It _was_ his favourite, and it did make him look good. But he’d last worn it to _that_ presentation and - he winced. Maybe not. Next to it hung his navy blue jacket though, perhaps -

A pillow boffed the side of his head. “Sharpe, please, put some damn clothes on,” said Murphy from his bed. “You’ve been half-naked for half an hour.”

Will smirked, striking a suggestive pose against the wardrobe. “What’s the matter, jealous? Or just turned on?” He didn’t put any work into his physique (sports were fun but far too much work) but he was blessed with a natural leanness that passed as attractively athletic anyway. Admittedly, after his stint in prison he was closer to outright skinny, but attitude was half the trick, and he had plenty of that.

“You wish,” Murphy replied, rolling his eyes before looking back down to his book. A few of his orange curls tumbled into his face and he pushed them back with an irritated huff. “You keep _sighing_ and _some_ of us are trying to study.”

Scooping up the pillow, Will laughed. “Oh, and all this,” - he gestured at himself - “is distracting? Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m taken tonight.” He tossed the pillow back and knew he should leave it there, but couldn’t help adding, “I’ve got a date.”

Murphy stared at him, and he wasn’t the only one. Will had attracted the attention of their other three dorm mates.

_“You’ve _got a date?” asked Johnson, the tall chap with the bed next to Will’s.

Jaros sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Don’t be foolish. He just got out of prison, who would he go with?”

“Maybe it’s a pity date, since he nearly died and all,” Holland suggested and the others sniggered.

It wasn’t worse than what he’d heard before, but today it stung. “Could you at least wait until I’m out the room?” he snapped.

They blinked in surprise, the rhythm of their banter thrown off. Will wasn’t sure he’d ever swiped back. Either make of joke of it, or pretend not to hear, that was best.

“Sorry,” Johnson muttered eventually, and the others murmured along with him.

Now he should put some spin on it, of course everyone wanted to discuss his daring exploits, something like that, but Will couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he glanced at the clock before turning back to his clothes. Five minutes before he needed to leave.

Despite his efforts to ignore them, Will couldn’t help catching the odd strands of the other’s gossip as they kept muttering among themselves.

“Didn’t that girl help him?”

“The mad druggist?”

“Not really Sharpe’s type, is she?”

“She’s not him for a start.”

“Is it that hangman’s son?” Murphy asked quietly, startling Will as he reached for the navy coat. He shifted when Will looked at him curiously. “I heard a rumour.”

This wasn’t a conversation Will wanted to have half-naked, or ever. “Yes,” he admitted, and braced for whatever teasing would follow.

But Murphy just raised his eyebrows. “Not bad. He’s cute. Wear the green one, if you can’t decide,” he added, before returning to his book.

Will frowned, still waiting for the jibes, but Murphy seemed done. “Thanks?” He looked at the green coat for a moment, before grabbing the navy one. Four minutes. He could get dressed in that time.

Will was glad he’d insisted on picking Vincent up rather than meeting in town - much more romantic that way. After a little persuasion, Vincent had given him the address of a lodging house on the East side of town, and Will repeated the number to himself over and over as he walked, a bouquet of roses clutched in his hands. It was further than he’d thought, past the burnt-out husk of the old council offices where the streets narrowed and the buildings still hadn’t been patched up from last month. Or maybe they’d always been like that. Eventually, he found the right door, and gave three sharp raps, hiding the bouquet behind his back.

An old woman opened the door and squinted out through grimy spectacles. “Yes?”

“Good evening,” Will said, treating her to one of his best smiles. “I’m looking for Mr Knott?”

She narrowed her eyes, and closed the door again. Hopefully to go get Vincent. While he waited, Will adjusted his hair under the brim of his top hat, and wiped his free palm on his trousers. Oh god. He was going to see Vincent again, for the first time since that night. Suddenly his heart was pounding triple-time and he glanced back over his shoulder. If he left now he could be halfway up the street before Vincent opened -

“Can I help?” Mr Knott senior asked. He slightly raised his eyebrows when he took Will in, but remained otherwise stone-faced. “Oh, y’ere fer Vincent.”

“Yessir,” Will replied. “He did mention I was coming?”

“Aye. Justa sec.” Mr Knott turned and shouted up the stairs, “Vincent, yer young man’s here.”

“Tell him I’m c-coming, Dad!” Vincent faintly called back.

Nodding, Mr Knott turned back to Will. “Y’heard him. Won’t be a mo.”

“Thanks,” Will said, still smiling tightly. He should say something, right? Just silently smiling made him look an idiot. But talking to the father of your sweetheart had to be hard enough normally, let alone when he was supposed to execute you a few days ago. Still, for Vincent’s sake, Will would try. He cleared his throat. “So -”

A tumble of footsteps, like someone half-falling down the stairs, before Vincent appeared next to his dad, panting slightly. “Sorry for the w-wait!”

Will broke into a smile and barely resisted flinging his arms around him. A few days had never felt so long. But it was okay, Vincent was _okay_, and here. “No wait,” Will assured him.

Vincent sighed in relief, then smiled. “You look nice!” He glanced down at his simple dark coat and straightened it awkwardly, before looking back up at Will. “Uh, _really_ nice. S-sorry, I didn’t realise you’d dress up…”

Cringing internally, Will snatched off his hat. He hadn’t meant to make Vincent feel under-dressed, he’d just thought dressing up was romantic. At least he hadn’t worn the purple. “No! I mean, my mistake. There, better?”

“Are you going to carry it round?”

He hadn’t thought of that. “Uh…”

“Leave it here, lad,” Mr Knott said, taking it off him to hang on a peg in the hallway. “Y’can get it back later.”

“Thank you,” Will muttered, rubbing the back his neck.

“Yeah, _thanks, Dad,_” Vincent said with a not very subtle nod back inside.

After a moment Mr Knott got the message. “You two best be off before it gets dark now.” Then he gave Will a stern look. I want him back by ten. No messin’ about, alright?”

Vincent groaned as he buried his face in his hands. _“Dad!”_

_“_Yessir!”

As Vincent stepped down from the porch, Mr Knott closed the door behind him and now they were face to face, alone. Will fought the urge to run again, then Vincent smiled, sending ripples of happiness all through him, and he couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to.

“Don’t worry about him,” Vincent said, nodding at the door. “He l-likes you really.”

“Really?”

“Well, kinda. He’s letting us go w-without a chaperon so…”

Will could work with ‘kinda.’ It was better than he got from most people. “Oh, before we go, I got these for you,” he said, suddenly remembering. With a flourish, he presented the half-dozen roses tied in a white ribbon.

Blinking in surprise, Vincent bought a hand to his mouth. “Oh, w-wow!” He carefully took the bouquet, and Will tried to memorise the way his eyes crinkled as he inhaled deeply. How was he so beautiful? “They’re r-really lovely. But our room doesn’t have a vase, I’m not sure w-what to do with them…”

Will hadn’t thought of that either. “Guess they’re coming with us,” he said brightly, and gestured down the street. “Shall we?”


	2. Lucky for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date time! What could go wrong?
> 
> You might have noticed I changed the rating to T, this was because I remembered some of the conversations at various points aren't entirely PG lol but there's nothing too bad still.

On the way into town, Vincent caught Will up on the past few days. After the scary police lady let him go, his dad had hardly let him out his sight. Unsurprisingly, he was quitting the hangman business as soon as possible, and they were off up to York on Wednesday to… sort everything out? Will didn’t entirely follow, but Vincent sounded happy so it had to be good news. Most importantly, Vincent finally explained he wanted to be a lawyer. “He was actually really pleased,” Vincent said wondrously. “I suppose I c-could have told him from the start.”

“Lucky for me you didn’t,” Will replied. He meant it as a joke (well, not quite a joke, because it was true) but Vincent’s face fell and he trailed off in nervous laughter.

“Guess so…”

Will closed his eyes until the desire to crumble to dust abated. He was supposed to put Vincent at ease, being funny and charming and romantic. They’d had a walk like this before, from Eliza’s to the university, and he’d done fine then. Why was this so much harder without handcuffs and the looming threat of execution? 

He could fix this. These were just early stumbles. Better to get them out the way now, so they could laugh about them later. The romance was the important thing.

Suddenly emboldened, Will linked his arm with Vincent’s, tugging him closer.

Vincent looked down, cheeks flushed. “W-Will!”

He… didn’t sound as happy as Will had hoped. “Yes?”

“Um. People might… see.”

There were a few passerbys, but nobody was watching them. “So? They’ll just be jealous I’ve got such a lovely date.”

“If you’re s-sure,” Vincent replied, but he didn’t say much else for the rest of the walk and as the streets grew busier towards the student area, he tensed up, hunching in on himself. An awful mis-step feeling opened up in Will’s stomach. Somehow he’d put a foot wrong again but to let go now would feel even stranger. By the time they reached the community hall, it was a relief to have a more people around, lessening the intense awkwardness. 

“W-what’s happening?” Vincent asked, curiously watching the groups of students heading inside. 

Will pulled out the tickets he’d bought off one of the drama society girls earlier. She’d been roaming the quad trying to rope in audience members, and had been suspicious but pleased when Will, rather than avoiding her like everyone else, had marched up and demanded two please. She hadn’t even needed her spiel about the deep message of the play and everyone’s hard work or whatever it was she usually said, though she’d tried anyway. “We’re going to see a play.”

Vincent smiled (finally, he’d got something right!) though looked a little confused still. “This i-isn’t the theatre though?”

“The proper Theatre closed for repairs after the incident last month,” Will replied, only stretching the truth a little. It  _ had _ closed, though it reopened this week. However, despite - or rather, due to - Father owning it, he was still banned after a minor mishap involving a tardy leading man being found in the prop cupboard with him. Vincent didn’t need to know that though. “But the students’ play opens tonight, and they’re usually a laugh if nothing else.”

They showed their tickets to the girl on the door. Will vaguely knew her from History of Magic, and she raised her eyebrows but said nothing as they made their way into the dimly lit hall. A temporary wooden stage with a heavy black curtain took up half the room, the rest stuffed with an optimistic number of wooden chairs. Maybe a fifth were occupied, mostly by students chatting idly and heckling the stagehands as they appeared - friends of the performers then. Will picked his way through the chairs to an empty pair in the middle sure to give a good view.

“Do you l-like the theatre?” Vincent asked once he was sat down. Will had wanted to hold his hand during the performance (he’d done braver things, his heart didn’t need to skip at the thought) but Vincent’s hands were tightly clutching the roses, and he sat straight backed on the edge of his seat.

“I -” Will began, but stopped. He’d wanted to say he did, to explain the magic of transformation on stage, magic nothing like the rules and words he studied but something from within, creating someone new with each gesture, look, smile, a thousand selves from one until even knowing it was an illusion he believed it. None of that sounded romantic though, just stupid, so he changed his mind. “It can be very entertaining. How about you?”

“I n-never really seen much. Oh, I went to the pantomime a few times w-when I was little. With Mum and Dad. And Punch and Judy shows! Uh, I don’t know if those are t-theatre though.” He looked around the room with interest, and leaned back a little. “So it’s a club of students, putting on a show? D-did you ever think of joining?”

Will hooked his elbows over the back of the chair, sprawling back, and chuckled. “No, it wouldn’t go well. They’d all get jealous of my talent.” Another half-true joke, because what he’d  _ meant _ was he was already acting, all the time, and Vincent knew that, and the drama group would know too if he went, and emotional vulnerability really wasn’t his thing, and a stupid boastful joke felt like the easiest way to convey all that, but as soon as it was out his mouth he realised it just sounded another boast. 

Vincent frowned a little and Will opened his mouth to backtrack, when the lights dimmed and the curtain rose. A spotlight fell on the stage, striking a chill ran through Will. The gallows, noose and all, stood on stage. 

“W-what did you say the play is about again?” Vincent whispered, his voice trembling. 

“Uh…” The girl had tried to tell him, but Will had rushed off before any specifics. “Revenge and… justice?” he hazarded, vaguely recalling a few words. 

A girl in prison uniform and paper mâché chains stumbled onto the stage and stared out across the audience for a long moment, before holding out her arms and beginning to speak. Will could barely follow her long, convoluted monologue (he was pretty sure the students had written the play themselves) but clearly there was lots of woe, suffering, and impending doom going on. The gallows cast a shadow over her the entire time. Suddenly, two policemen burst in and grabbed her shoulders. She screamed, pounding her fists against them as they forced her up the steps. As they slipped the noose around her neck, Will took a shaky breath, determined he would not throw up. 

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to Vincent, who had gone ashen and wide eyed. So much for getting it right.

A few other people had settled into their row and scowled as Will and Vincent squeezed their way past, muttering apologies. The girl on stage kept wailing and there was a sickening  _ snap _ as they slipped out the back doors.

Gulping down the cool night air, Will leant against the community hall’s wall until the dizzy fear passed. Vincent did the same next to him, arms wrapped tight around himself. 

“Are you okay?” Will asked once he trusted himself to speak, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise -”

Vincent opened his mouth but it took a few tries to get the words out. “I-I’m fine,” he managed eventually. “Surprised, t-that’s all.”

“Don’t know what they’re thinking, putting on something like that, just upsetting people for the sake -”

“It’s n-not their fault.” Vincent stepped off from the wall, dislodging Will’s hand. “They’re just doing a p-play.”

“Bloody awful play if you ask me.” Will exhaled and stamped down his anger - it’s not the drama society he was mad at  _ really -  _ before forcing a smile. “Anyway, better we left at the start than sit through the rest. And now we can eat earlier. Are you hungry?”

Vincent studied the ground. His roses were looking slightly battered from the cramped hall, and a few petals lay scattered around his shoes. “A l-little.”

“Let’s go then.” This time, when Will tried to take Vincent’s arm he jumped, and Will quickly let go. This…  _ really  _ wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go, not one bit. By now they should have been holding hands, laughing together at a pleasant evening’s entertainment, not awkwardly walking in silence. He liked Vincent, Vincent apparently liked him, so where was the problem? ‘Be romantic,’ Eliza had said, and he was doing his best. He just had to try harder. 

Luckily, he still had one more chance. Candlelit meals were  _ definitely _ romantic, and they were headed for one of the nicest restaurants in Widdershins.

Technically, The Hotel Gula was the nicest restaurant in Widdershins, but it was still under repairs. Will had never liked it anyway. He’d never liked  _ any _ of the suffocatingly fancy places his parents dragged him to whenever business brought them to the city. Always too easy to do or say the wrong thing - even trying his hardest he’d still earn a scolding, or worse, for some embarrassment he’d caused. Eventually he stopped trying altogether. However, even if he’d hated it at the time, now he was glad for his parent’s forced outings, because now he knew the most romantic place to take Vincent. He’d love it.

_ Il Boschetto’s  _ entrance was on the high street, a gleaming pair of double doors under an ornate red canopy. Will stopped before them and grinned at Vincent. “Here we are.”

Vincent faltered, eyes widening as he took in the grandeur. “In th-there?”

“Uh huh.” Will lead the way and held the heavy door for Vincent, who shuffled past.

“Welcome, gentlemen, how may I help?” asked the _ maître d',  _ an immaculately dressed man with an impressive moustache.

“We have a reservation, under the name ‘Torello,’” Will said. Vincent looked at him curiously, but Will just smiled reassuringly. Their names were still all over the papers, and he hadn’t fancied facing the strange looks and whispers that followed him around the university. Using his mother’s maiden name was a small precaution against that. 

“Torello?” the  _ maître d'  _ repeated. He ran his finger down the list in front of him, then frowned and flipped the page over. “Ah, I see. Your reservation isn’t for an hour and a half I’m afraid.”

_ Stupid, _ of course it wasn’t. They’d planned the see the entire play before eating. “There must have been a mix-up,” Will said. “Would it be possible to eat now anyway?”

The  _ maître d'  _ narrowed his eyes. “There is an available table. However, we do have a fee for cancelled reservations.”

“That’s no problem.”

Vincent touched Will’s arm lightly. “Will, it’s fine,” he whispered. “We c-can wait. Or go somewhere else.”

“I can pay,” Will assured him. At some point he was going to have to find a job, somehow, and start saving to pay Father back, but until then he still had some spending money left and he figured he was allowed to celebrate not being executed once, right?

Biting his lip, Vincent fell quiet.

“Very well. If you’d come this way, gentlemen.”

As they followed him over the plush green carpet, Will flashed Vincent a grin which he weakly returned. He seemed a bit overwhelmed, and Will didn’t blame him.  _ Il Boschetto _ was a large, elegant place, lit by sparkling chandeliers and soft candles on the tables, populated by fashionable patrons. Tastefully arranged flowers filled vases along the walls, while, in the corner, a pianist played something lilting yet dignified on a sleek grand piano. Excitement, and a touch of pride rippled through Will - this was what romance looked like! Surely now things would pick up.

They were seated at a small table near the centre of the room. Vincent clutched his bouquet in his lap as he sat, and kept glanced back the way they’d come. A light trail of petals followed them. 

“Anything to drink, sir?” the  _ maître d'  _ asked Will.

“Two champagnes, if you please.” That was romantic, right? Or was it only meant for celebrating? He couldn’t remember, but either was fine. They had plenty to celebrate. 

Once they were alone, Vincent lent forward over the white tablecloth, his green eyes wide and anxious. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I c-can afford -”

“My treat,” Will said, waving a hand. 

“I c-couldn’t -”

“It’s no problem, I promise.”

Vincent’s eyes slid down and away as he sat back in his chair. “If you’re sure. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Will said, then realised he was repeating himself and clamped his mouth shut. Words were supposed to be easy, but with Vincent it was different. Everything was different with him. 

He was spared from the awkwardness of the resulting silence by the arrival of their drinks and menus. Will held out his flute in a toast. “Here’s to…”  _ To you and me,  _ he wanted to say,  _ to giving your all, to seeing the best in people, to people not worth disappointing, to the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, to the one who saved me _ , but he couldn’t figure out how to say all that without sounding serious and heavy when they were meant to be having fun. “Unconventional lawyering,” he went for instead. It made sense in his head.

Vincent’s eyebrows bunched closer in confusion, but he smiled as he repeated the toast anyway. “To un-c-conventional lawyering.” His smile grew as their glasses chimed, but he grimaced as he took a sip. “Ah!”

“Alright?”

Flushing, Vincent put down the glass. “Y-yeah, fine,” he mumbled. “Sorry, I never had it before.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Um. N-not really. Sorry.”

Will shrugged. “Hardly a problem for me, is it?” He drained his glass, then swapped it with Vincent’s. “I’ll get you something else instead.”

“It’s okay, y-you don’t have to.”

He wasn’t sure how, but Will couldn’t shake the feeling he’d done something wrong again. Rather than push, he opened up his menu and started to read. Despite not eating all day, he wasn’t particularly hungry, but it would be weird not to get anything.

“It’s rather good here,” he said, glancing up from the pages. “Anything strike your fancy?”

“Um…” Vincent frowned for a long while at his menu, before carefully placing it down. “I don’t know w-what anything says,” he admitted. “I-I think it’s in Italian?”

“It is an Italian restaurant,” Will replied lightly, internally kicking himself. Vincent didn’t laugh.  _ Idiot _ , he should have thought of that. “Don’t worry, I’ll read for you.”

“You s-speak Italian?”

“Naturally,” Will replied. He’d meant ‘naturally’ as in ‘naturally, my mother is Italian,’ and ‘naturally, it’s what my nanny spoke,’ and ‘naturally, I spent hours trying to converse with Mother and she corrected every last mistake,’ but of course Vincent didn’t know any of that, so it didn’t mean that at all. “I studied it at school,” he said, half a truth.

“Oh, gosh.”

Will read through as quickly as he could - thankfully it wasn’t very long, the dishes carefully selected - but Vincent’s eyes glazed over and he shrunk in on himself. 

“Do you want me to repeat any?” Will offered. 

Flapping his hands, Vincent shook his head. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s just a b-bit…” Vincent’s hands moved more erratically, before he forced them down again. “Sorry.” He’d been saying that a lot tonight.

A waitress appeared almost silently at the table. “Are you ready to order?”

“Um -”

Will reached across and gently touched Vincent’s arm. “Why don’t I order for both of us?”

Vincent shifted in his seat. “Um. I-I’m -”

“I’ll have the  _ raviolo di coda e percorino.  _ And for my date…” Beneath the table, he tapped his feet in childish excitement, it still sounded unbelievable even now. “How about  _ polpette alla cacciatora _ ?” He’d had it last time and it was pretty good, though hadn’t managed to stomach much with his parents there.

“I don’t…” Vincent struggled to get the words out. “I-is it -”

The waitress seemed to be stressing him further, so Will quickly continued. “We’ll go for that then, thank you.” The woman scribbled it down before leaving them, and Will relaxed a little.

Vincent however, remained tense, hands folded together. “W-what is the pol… thing you ordered me?”

“It’s nice, you’ll like it. Meatballs cooked in wine, with mash. Sound good?”

“I’m vegetarian,” Vincent said. He wouldn’t meet Will’s eyes, and his voice had taken on a faint edge. “I tried to tell y-you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Well. That wasn’t great. “I’ll call them back,” Will said quickly. “It’s fine, they won’t have started yet. What do you want instead?”

“I want…” Pushing his chair back, Vincent sighed and placed the roses on the table. “I think I w-want to go home.”

“You’re not hungry? That’s fine, I’ll walk you back.”

“Go home  _ alone,  _ I m-mean.”

“Oh.  _ Oh.” _ Will’s stomach was suddenly sickly hollow. “Wait, there’s been a few hiccoughs I admit but -”

“I don’t know w-what I’m doing here.”

“I thought you’d like somewhere romantic.”

“It’s not a place I belong. Not l-like you.”

“I don’t  _ like _ it here, I only came for you.”

“I didn’t ask to c-come here! Didn’t ask y-you to order food, or drinks, or to pay, or go w-watch the…” Vincent’s voice had been rising, but he trailed off as he looked around. Will did too and realised the nearby diners were watching as closely as they could without outright staring. Great. “I mostly meant w-what I’m doing w-with you,” Vincent continued sadly. “Y-you’re not… You’re different than before. Or the same, I don’t know.”

“I tried,” Will said, forcing his voice to keep quiet. To his horror, he found his throat was tightening and he gripped the edge of the table to ground himself as he spat out his next words. “Guess you’re someone else that’s not good enough for.”

Instantly he regretted it, but it was too late. Vincent flinched, glassy eyes blinking rapidly as he got to his feet. Beneath Will’s fingers, the table turned insubstantial, the world slipping away from his grasp by the second. “Goodbye, W-Will.” One corner of Vincent’s mouth tugged up, a ghost of a sad smile. “I’m glad you’re safe now, b-but… I’m going to go.”

“Fine!” snapped Will, suddenly feeling very childish and petulant and small and alone. “Go then!”

He did, which shouldn’t have been a surprise but was anyway. Will could feel the rest of the room watching him, hear the whispers and titters sweeping the tables, he knew how he looked - a pathetic teenager on a catastrophic date, which was unfortunately the truth. Matters worsened when one of the waitstaff sidled up and asked if he wanted to cancel their orders. 

“No,” Will replied with a sudden burst of conviction. “He’ll be back in a minute.”

“Of course, sir,” the waitress agreed, and slipped away again.

If there was one thing Will was good at, it was pretending everything was fine. He sat up straight, forced down his fears, and waited patiently for Vincent to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Will... and sorry everyone like me who hates anything being even slightly awkward ever.  
So, you guys reckon Knotty's coming back? ;P  
Don't ask me why Will's mum is Italian, I don't know, it wasn't my decision.
> 
> I hope you guys - well maybe not enjoyed this chapter, it's not a super fun time, but at least found it interesting or entertaining or whatever XD And thanks to my sister sending me files chapter 3 should be set for Thursday! I'd ask any guesses as to what happens but I've ranted about the amount of homework too many times on Tumblr already.  
<3


	3. Shut. The fuck. Up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my sister for saving this chapter by sending me the edits so we got the version I spent hours on, rather than a rush job :)
> 
> (Not sure if this has to be tagged, but heads up for description of a panic attack in this first scene)

Vincent wasn’t coming back.

Eventually, that fact penetrated Will’s thick skull and he skulked back to the dorms. Hopefully the others would be out drinking, or studying, or having actually successful dates because they weren’t utter morons like him, but as soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by a chorus of laughter.

“Back already?” Jaros said, beer bottle in hand. “That didn’t take long.”

Will arranged his face into almost a smile. “Missed me?”

Holland, sprawled on the floor with his back against Jaros’ bed, smirked. “Couldn’t last, huh?”

“Bet they didn’t even show up,” Johnson retorted, to great amusement. “Can’t blame them.”

“Shut up,” Will said quietly, crossing to his bed. His voice was this close to cracking and he fought to keep it level. Playing along took a patience he’d lost. “All of you.” - He shrugged off his coat - “Just.” - pulled off his shirt - “Shut.” - one shoe off - “The fuck.” - the other - “Up.” He collapsed onto his bed and pulled the pillow tight around his head. Blood roared in his ears and the room had gone painfully quiet, but all he wanted was to bury into the shitty flimsy bedding and stay there.

“Sharpe?” someone asked quietly.

Then the room exploded into laughter again.

“God, he’s so dramatic.”

“Guess they realised how insufferable he is.”

“Can you believe -”

Groaning, Will scrunched his eyes closed and wondered how much worse things would be if he retreated now and tried to sneak back in later. Probably a hell of a lot worse. Everyone had taken the piss when he was literally going to be executed. Mercy for just a bad date was unthinkable. ‘Just a bad date,’ like it wasn’t the most awful evening of his life. At least when he was going to be hung it would have been over in a few hours. He still had to get up in the morning.

One voice cut across the others, ringing with indignation. “Christ, you lot.” It was Murphy, Will vaguely registered, but that didn’t make any sense because why did Murphy care what they said? Half the time he joined in too. “Can’t you see he’s already upset?”

“He’s fine, he just wants attention like always,” Johnson said. “See?” Before Will could think to resist, he grabbed his bad shoulder and flipped him over.

Will yelped and cringed back, throwing up his hands in a futile attempt to hide the tears spilling down his cheeks. “Leave me alone!” he screamed.

“I - I’m sorry! I didn’t realise -”

“What, that I’ve got feelings?” His arm really fucking hurt, and he couldn’t stop gulping down air like there was none in the room. Everyone was staring, not in the fun way, but now they’d seen him cry he didn’t have much more dignity to lose. “Well unfortunately I do, so just -” His voice cracked, holding back a sob. “So just give it a rest for one damn night!”

It was almost worth it for the stunned looks on their faces. Almost. Will fell back down, not caring if he jarred his arm again, and gripped his pillow like it might contain the shaking. It wasn’t just his arm, it wasn’t just their words, or what a fool he’d made of himself, or Vincent’s expression, or Flack’s betrayal, or his parent’s disappointment, or the noose around his neck, or - or - Will wasn’t sure it was anything specifically. Everything of the past week, the past month, the past few years, everything he’d ever pushed down or away had materialised in his chest and felt awful, he was dizzy, he couldn’t breathe, his throat was tight, his arm hurt, everything was wrong, he was wrong, and -

“Sharpe?” Murphy said, sounding very far away even as he touched Will’s back. “Can you sit up for me?”

Curling up tighter, Will shook his head. He couldn’t sit up, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything -

Murphy’s hand slipped to Will’s good arm. “Please, just do what you’re asked for once in your life. It’ll make you feel better. You’re having a panic attack, you need to control your breathing, and that’s easier if you’re sitting up.”

Will knew what those words all meant, but they still didn’t make sense. Panic attacks happened to other people, not him. Still, he let Murphy guide him to sitting up until they were sat together on the edge of his bed.

“Christ you’re a mess,” Murphy muttered, smiling weakly. “No, don’t worry about them,” he added when Will’s eyes drifted towards the others, even though he couldn’t properly see through the haze over his vision. “Pay attention to me. And normally you’d say something like ‘you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ because you’re about thirteen, but under the circumstances I thought I’d say it for you. Okay, we’re going to take deep breaths together, ready?”

Breathing wasn’t under his control right now, subject only to the ragged jerk of his ribs, but Will did his best to follow Murphy’s slow, soft words until the fog in his head started to clear. Still dizzy but no longer dying, he looked up.

Murphy smiled and some of his freckles disappeared into crinkles around his eyes. “Better?”

“Y-yes, thanks.” Will sniffed. Better as in the world had stopped spinning and his body was mostly under his control again. He’d still publicly embarrassed himself on top of everything else. Mostly, he felt exhausted.

Now his mind was still, he realised the others had gathered closer. He tensed, no longer caring what they said but with no energy left to defend himself.

To his surprise, when Johnson spoke his voice was quiet, and slightly sheepish. “Uh, here.” He passed over a handkerchief. Will stared as he took it, until Johnson looked away.

Holland held a glass of water to Murphy. “Will this help?”

“Uh huh. Give him a sec.”

Will finished wiping his eyes and Murphy pressed the glass into his hands. “Here, Sharpe?”

Feeling like a child, Will cupped the water with both hands and drank, one sip at a time. Talking was too much effort, but nobody seemed to mind. Probably enjoying the change.

“Drink that for a while, you’ll be fine.”

Johnson sat down heavily on his bed, hands folded in his lap. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I forgot about your arm, and… we’ve all been kind of harsh on you.”

‘Kind of’ was an understatement. Will simply stared at him over the rim of the glass.

“I’m sorry too,” Jaros added.

“And me,” said Holland.

Murphy nodded. “And me.”

“We’ve been dicks,” Johnson finished, and Will snorted in almost a laugh. “You - you never seemed upset before. Guess we didn’t realise we could actually affect you.” The others nodded, murmuring more apologies. “Not that it’s any excuse.”

“It’s -” Fine, Will had been going to say, but it wasn’t. He’d built his walls high to protect himself. Now they said that had only spurred them on? How could he win?

But despite their laughter, despite their relentless needling, despite everything he’d done to deserve it… they seemed to genuinely feel bad he was hurt.

It was too much to unravel. Will changed track. “Don’t get a big head. It wasn’t just you lot.”

“You’ve had a lot going on,” Murphy said, and Will’s throat tightened again. Logically, yeah, almost being executed was a big deal, but all the other students treated it like a joke.

“Bad date probably didn’t help,” Holland added, then grunted as Jaros elbowed him.

“Probably not.”

Johnson winced. “Want to… talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Adjusting his glasses, Jaros spoke into the heavy silence. “Well, he probably isn’t worth your time anyway.”

The others brightened, adding their own assertions his date was an idiot and he could do way better, even inviting him to the pub with them to chat up locals. Then Holland told the story of his worst date, and Johnson recalled his first sweetheart, and Jaros lamented the time his aunt set him up, and at some point Murphy produced a hip-flask and passed it to Will after a few swigs.

“What’s in there?” Jaros asked with interest.

“A tasty little drink called ‘mind your own damn business,’” Murphy snapped.

“Whiskey,” Will supplied, gasping as it burned the back of his throat. He took another gulp.

“You’ve been holding out on us!”

“You’re not getting any. You three are already drunk.”

“Murphyyy…”

Conversation dissolved into petty squabbling and though everyone kept imploring Will to side with them, he mostly listened without talking. It was nice they were trying, but no amount of niceness could stop him feeling absolutely wretched.

Mostly-false imprisonment and near-execution should have been a good excuse, but Will was still expected to catch up on all his missed work himself. So, even though the world was very cruel and grim the next morning, he dragged himself to lectures. Extra catch-up work was the last thing he needed.

He couldn’t complain really, he was lucky the university had taken him back at all. Father’s influence again, he’d bet. Just like the lack of public information about his arrest. Less embarrassing for the family that way. Honestly, he’d half expected to be shipped off to the military, so it was almost a relief to slump into a seat in his Materials class. He even took notes. It didn’t distract from his heartbreak, but it was a start.

After Materials, there was Phasmia-linguistics, then a practical session where they were supposed to identify imbued objects but mostly the instructor rambled on about his marital problems while students attempted to fight each other with the various items. Will did not have fun.

Lunchtime offered, if not a bright spot then a marginally less gloomy one when Johnson and co. awkwardly asked if he wanted to eat with them, but the thought of a) social interaction and b) food made Will feel sick, so he retreated to the library instead. With a librarian's help he found some likely looking books for his Material’s homework, but all too soon he was faced with three hours of History of Magic.

For possibly the first time ever, he was on time _ and _ sat in the front row. No chance to sleep down there, but more importantly, nobody would try to talk to him. Today they were studying the development of summoning tools. Not his favourite - _ people _ were much more interesting than _ things _ \- but at least chalk versus dye versus chiselling was solid, it was _ real, _ and if he focused hard enough he didn’t have to think about anything else.

About halfway through the lesson, Professor Burress placed a small chest on the table. Will straightened up a little. They rarely got to see actual artifacts in class, as the Archaeology department hoarded them jealously. He watched as she flicked off the clasps and opened the lid to reveal a ceremonial summoning knife, which she showed off to the class. With careful questions, she guided them through identifying the age (15th century), origin (Scotland) and likely use (wedding ceremonies.) Still rather dry for Will’s taste, but at least they were actually doing something.

“Now, who can tell us what it’s been imbued with?” Professor Burress asked, her narrow eyes scanning the room before stopping on Will. “Ah, Mr Sharpe, since you’ve finally decided to show up again -”

“I _ was _ in jail,” Will muttered, and the girl to his left snorted, but Professor Burress ignored him. 

“-why don’t you give it a go?”

The first thing Will noticed was the surprising heft. The blade was wickedly jagged, covered in rust, while the handle was polished dark wood. On each side, a summoning circle had been carefully carved directly into it.

_ “Lecta Phasmia,” _ Will cast, waving his left hand. Nothing happened. “ ** _Lecta Phasmia_ ** _ , _” he repeated, and his arm twinged in protest. “Broken arm interfering...” he muttered. The rest of the class were watching now. He was on the verge of giving up, laughing and declaring the whole thing stupid when -

“Having trouble?” Professor Burress asked. “Why don’t you let someone who pays attention in class have a look?”

Indignation fired through Will. Nothing had changed. They still thought he was the same lazy, selfish idiot as before. And yes, sometimes he was those things. But there had to be more to him, right?

“Just a sec, Prof,” he replied, turning the knife over. He couldn’t cast, but he could still look.

The circles were cut deep, but with surprising precision considering their intricacy. “These look like… Hm.”

Memorising circles wasn’t his strong point, but he’d expected to be able to place these. Frowning, he flipped the knife to examine the one on the other side, but it was identical. Something about them looked _ wrong _ though, an odd detail tugging on his mind. Perhaps they were simply something too complex for him to have studied yet? Very specific yet powerful emotions sometimes had much more complicated circles, but that didn’t feel the correct answer either.

“Double lines, similar to _ Loyalty. _ Repeating triangles, also found in _ Harmony, _ but disrupted by shorter lines… almost like _ Luck? _It’s almost like someone tried to combine several circles into one, but -”

Everything clicked.

Will held up the knife, flipping it this way and that, then locked eyes with Professor Burress. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not imbued with anything. That’s how it can have two circles. Looks impressive, but it’s nothing special really.” He held out the knife handle first towards Professor Burress, and forced a grin. 

“Almost,” she said, taking it back, and her frown lessened a fraction. “Perhaps you can use your brain upon occasion. But the fact it is not what it first seems only makes it _ more _interesting to a historian. Would anyone like to suggest why it was made this way?”

“I never would’ve got that,” whispered the girl on Will’s left, and he turned to her in surprise. “Guess sometimes you do actually know what you’re on about.”

Will smirked. “It’s been known to happen.”

She snorted again, then busied herself with her notes as she earnt a glare from Professor Burress. Class continued as normal, and Will quickly sank back into his depressed state. Who cared if he solved a stupid knife puzzle? Professor Burress might be slightly pleased, which made a nice change, but all he could think of was would Vincent be impressed.

With lectures finally over, Will dragged himself to the study halls. A quiet corner and a stack of books was probably his best defence against everything right now. That wasn’t something he’d thought he’d ever say, but after wracking his brain all day, he still had no idea how to fix things with Vincent. If he did something, it would have to be this evening, he’d said he was leaving tomorrow. But _ should _ he do something? Vincent had run from him, maybe for good reason. And there was no point rushing over until he knew what he was rushing over to do.

There was another option. One Will had been avoiding, but he was running out of time to come up with something himself. Once again, Eliza might be his best shot.

He couldn’t imagine her being pleased to see him. Better he went after closing time, rather than make her yell at him in front of customers.

The apothecary didn’t close for another hour and a half though, and in the meantime, there was homework.

Most of the tables in the hall were occupied and the room hummed with low chatter. Will faltered on the threshold, pretending to adjust his satchel as he considered whether to search for somewhere quieter or settle in a corner, when a red-headed boy looked up, and waved. “Sharpe!” Murphy called, and pointed at the seat opposite.

Will was across the room before he realised it. Nobody had _ asked _ him to study with them since first year. He pulled up a casual smile as he threw himself into the chair. “How’s it going?”

Groaning, Murphy gestured at the thick book on the table, the same one he’d been reading last night. “Remind me why I thought taking Medical Applications was a good idea? Got an essay on this in for the end of the week.”

“You could always ‘borrow’ the illegal mind-control research your professor was working on and hand that in instead,” Will suggested lightly, pulling his own books from his bag. Then he glanced at Murphy, who was staring in a kind of fascinated horror. “Or just read that brick instead,” he added hastily. “Probably better.”

“Yeah, think I’ll stick to reading,” Murphy replied with a nervous laugh. 

“Certainly less hazardous to health.” _ God _, he needed to learn when to stop talking. Constantly bringing up your own execution had a way of unsettling people. 

Murphy slumped lower over the book. “Wouldn’t bet on it. I’ve read this sentence _ three times _ and I still don’t know what it means. Oh, look who it is.”

“Mind if I join?” Johnson asked, already pulling out the chair next to Murphy. “Jaros and Holland are just coming.”

Of course they were. Those three were inseparable. He could hardly protest, but Will’s heart sank as the other two caught up. He didn’t doubt their sincerity of the night before, but he had no illusions about the fickleness of favour either. All it would take was a few stupid missteps from him, and they’d get mad and revert to normal.

Murphy looked up and _ tsked _ in exaggerated annoyance as they sat down. “You’re not here to be a nuisance, are you? Some of us have _ real _ work to be doing, not messing around with _ Magic Story Time. _”

“First of all, Magical Humanities involves much more than just reading fairy-tales,” Jaros replied primly, laying out his books one by one. “And second of all -”

“We’re not doing that, we’re starting the blasted Materials essay,” Holland finished as he tipped out the contents of his bag. He made a clumsy grab for the several pens rolling on the floor, then disappeared beneath his chair to chase them. “It’s going to take _ forever. _”

“Hey, Sharpe, did you already start?” Johnson asked, noticed Will’s pages. 

“I did a little at lunch.”

“And you already got all that? Guess your pen runs as fast as your mouth.”

“You know me, always plenty to say.”

“Alright for some,” Holland grumbled, back in his seat after finally retrieving a pen. “I don’t have a clue what I’m gonna do. What did you go for?”

He really wasn’t in the mood for chatting, and Will flicked through the pages snappier than necessary as he searched for that line a few pages back. “The effect of the emotional state of the item’s creator on the readiness of the material to accept the imbuement -” There was the quote. Will double-checked and scribbled it down. “-And the implications of line-production in this regard,” he finished without looking up. That was the part that had interested him when he’d skimmed a throwaway line in the textbook. So far he hadn’t been able to find much on it, but he had a few days.

Nobody replied. Will determinedly kept his eyes down as his hand fell still. He shouldn’t have answered. Any second now they’d start, tell him to stop acting smart and making stuff up.

Jaros spoke first. “Hm. Actually, that’s pretty interesting. Hadn’t thought about that before.”

“Doesn’t look like many people have.”

“Maybe for good reason,” Johnson said. “What if there’s nothing to write about?”

Will shrugged. “My grades are bad as it is.” No point denying it, not when the results lists were posted in the quad. “Another failed essay won’t make too much difference. I’ll scrape through somehow.”

“Then why not pick something easy?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He’d been serious, not flippant, and the others regarded him with varying degrees of surprise. Even in his depths of despair, he couldn’t resist an audience, and managed a grin. “What? Be dull if you wish, I like a little risk in my life.”

Holland laughed, but not unkindly, not aimed _ at _ him. “I’d be risking the back of my dad’s hand if I fucked around with work like that.”

The ridges of the pen dug into Will’s hand but he barely felt it. Keep it together, everything was fine, well actually nothing was _ fine, _but right this second -

“I’ve met your dad, he never would,” Johnson retorted, and Holland laughed again. 

“Well I’m not going to test it. What if -”

Murphy thumped his fist on the desk, jolting everyone’s attention towards him. “I thought you said you weren’t going to be nuisances. Shut up or go away.”

“Alright, alright,” Holland muttered, lowering his head. 

Johnson smirked as he finally opened his book. “Tetchy.”

“You’d be ‘tetchy’ too if you had this much to get through.”

Slowly, Will released his grip on the pen and breathed out. Just a joke. Everything was fine. He glanced at Murphy briefly, wondering if again he’d picked up on his discomfort and headed the others off, but Murphy was staring blankly at the page. Then he blinked, shaking his head a little, and continued to read.

Will followed his lead, knuckling down with his essay but keeping half an eye on the clock. Time moved in skips and drags, crawling by painfully slow whenever he got stuck (as it usually did whenever he tried to study) but occasionally he’d work out his next point and twenty minutes would disappear in a blink. The clock reached closing time, but he figured he’d give Eliza time to sort things out before barging in, and then he found a useful quote he really ought to write down, and then he started to wonder if maybe it was too late to go bothering her after all, and then he realised he was stalling because going to her for help a second time was a very scary prospect, and made himself pack away his things anyway. 

Holland looked up from the half page of notes he'd managed. "No way, done already?"

"Not quite, but I've got an errand to run."

"Well don't take too long," Jaros said. "We're not waiting for you. No, Holland, you've copied that down wrong, the Alloy Regulations Act was 1823, not 1824."

"Shit, really?"

Will paused, books half into his bag. "Waiting for me…?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten already. You said you were coming to the pub with us."

"It'll help you forget about yesterday," Holland added, then winced. Will suspected he'd just been kicked under the table. "I mean - it'll be fun?"

"We're leaving at half eight," Johnson said, like that settled everything. 

“Right. I’ll… see you later,” Will said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Not quite a promise he’d be there, more a statement of fact. He didn’t particularly _ want _ to go, but he didn’t want to _ not _ go either, because that's how you got people whispering you thought you were too good for them and the like, and _ that’s _ how you ended up friendless. Well, he was already friendless, so more like that’s how you stayed friendless. Either way, it all depended on what Eliza told him to do. If she’d talk to him at all.

When Will reached _ Swift’s _there was nobody in sight and the sign read ‘Closed,’ but the upstairs window was open. Feeling slightly sick, Will rapped on the door, then again, harder.

“We’re shut! Can’t you read, pal?” Eliza called, sticking her head out. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and she brought a finger to her lips as Will opened his mouth to reply. “Alright, justa sec!” She disappeared from view, and a few seconds later reappeared to open the door. “You can’t be here,” she hissed, frantically shooing him . “Go away!”

Not the best reception, but at least she wasn’t yelling. Actually, she seemed more worried than mad. “Eliza, please -” Will began, taking a step towards her. “I just -”

From upstairs came the sound of a chair scraping across tiles, and Eliza glanced back over her shoulder. “Okay, fine.” She grabbed his wrist (Will winced, it was the bad one) and tugged him into the room. “Get behind the counter and stay quiet.

She gave a final shove and Will did as she said, folding in on himself with his back against the drawers, heart pounding with some very confused adrenaline. Just in time too - a second later, footsteps started down the stairs.

“E-Eliza?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:) turns out I couldn't quite go a full chapter without Knotty after all! Is this Will's chance to fix things? :P  
I love my student sons! I'll miss them after this fic is done ;_; Making up their uni lessons and stuff was the most fun of this chapter, I wish I did Magical Humanities tbh :')
> 
> I haven't actually finished editing chapter 4 yet, but I'm pretty sure it'll be done by Monday evening as planned, so see you guys then to find out how this goes down :)


	4. It was a really weird night.

Will’s heart hammered so hard he thought he might be sick. _Shit,_ why was Vincent here? He curled tighter in on himself as Vincent’s footsteps creaked down the stairs, wishing he’d run when Eliza told him to.

“I thought I h-heard voices? Everything alright?"

“Yeah, grand, just some idiot,” Eliza replied. Will probably imagined the stress on _idiot._ “Nothing to worry about.”

More steps down. “I’d b-better be off.” Vincent’s voice sounded funny, sort of fragile. “N-need to pack my bag. Thanks for the tea. And, uh, for l-listening.”

“Hey, what are friends for if not to convince you your crappy date is a good-for-nothing scoundrel jerk anyway?” 

Will frowned. That was _definitely_ directed at him. And _definitely _unfair. Well, _mostly_ unfair. _Slightly_ unfair. ‘Good-for-nothing’ was a bit harsh considering their chat in the Depths, but she did have a point. It had _definitely_ been a crappy date. 

“You know it’s not l-like that. He’s not so bad really.”

Somehow, that stung worse. Vincent was still standing up for him, still refusing to believe the worst of him like everyone else. And he sounded sad. Will gripped his arm, ignoring the protesting twinges, and resisted the urge to run out and comfort him.

“I know, I know.” Eliza sighed, tapping her foot. “Easier to pretend though, huh?”

“Mm. I just - That night, I t-thought I knew him. And then I didn’t at all. Maybe we only got on b-because of the situation?”

“I dunno, Knotty. You’d hafta get yourself someone who knows this stuff. Maybe last night was just bad luck.”

“Maybe.” Footsteps, towards the door. Will risked peeking out in time to see Vincent hug Eliza goodbye. “I’m off pretty early tomorrow,” he said. “B-but I’ll try stop in, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Eliza said, waving as he left. Vincent returned the wave with a sad little smile, and Will ducked down again. God, he didn’t even feel this pained when _he_ was sad. Whose idea was this ‘caring about other people’ thing anyway? It was awful. As was dating, existence and a weakness for cute boys.

“You okay?” Eliza asked, appearing over Will. She outstretched her hand but Will just blinked in confusion. 

“What?”

“You okay?” she repeated, and beckoned until Will finally took her hand. “You look kinda, eh, not great,” she added, hauling him to his feet.

“Well I did just have to listen to my crush and his best friend discuss how terrible I am,” Will replied, snatching his hand back. 

Eliza grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. You drink tea, right?”

“Huh?”

“I’m putting the kettle on again. Best thing for… everything really. Had like five cups with Knotty already but never too much, huh?”

Will followed her to the stove in the corner. “Why are you making me tea? I thought I was a ‘good-for-nothing scoundrel jerk.’”

“Okay, firstly, you know neither me or Knotty actually think that,” Eliza replied as she set the kettle heating. “And second of all, you can be a good-for-nothing scoundrel jerk and still need a cup of tea and someone to talk to. I’m not great at talking about anything other than conspiracies, but I can definitely make tea, so make yourself useful and grab the mugs from that cupboard over there.”

Will did as she said, his head spinning a little from trying to keep up. Eliza talked and moved and changed track as fast as her thoughts must zing, and her quick change push and pull always left him off-balance. It must have shown in his expression because when he brought the mugs back over, she squinted and demanded, “What?”

“I don’t get why you’re being nice to me,” Will admitted. “After I hurt Vincent -”

“You came here because you needed help, right?”

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry.”

“There ya go then.” The kettle started to whistle and Eliza poured the water into the mugs. “If a friend turns up looking for help, you don’t turn them away. Even if he’s been a bit of an idiot,” she added with a smile, and handed over the mug. “Drink up and tell me about it, alright?”

“Thank you.” Embarrassingly, Will felt his eyes get hot with the threat of tears and quickly took a sip to calm himself down. It _was_ really nice tea. “We’re really friends?”

Eliza paused, her mug halfway to her mouth. “Er, yeah?” To his amazement, she flushed slightly. He hadn’t thought she was even capable of being shy. “If ya want, I mean. Figured that was why you kept showing up here and all.”

“Or I knew you’re soft enough to take pity on a sap like me,” Will replied with a smile. Childish as it sounded, he was ridiculously glad to hear someone call him a friend. 

“Ha. Not many would call _me _soft.”

“Vincent just _looked _at you and you agreed to help.”

“Knotty’s different,” Eliza said, and took another sip of tea. Will had to agree with her. Vincent was unlike anyone he’d ever met. “Anyway, you don’t need pity.”

Will sighed. “Might change your mind when you hear what a mess I made. Whatever Vincent told you, it was worse.”

“He didn’t actually go into specifics. He’s pretty private, plus he’s embarrassed for running off. But it was just a date, how wrong could it go?”

Cringing, Will sucked in a long breath. _“Well…_” As quickly and clearly as he could, he ran through his litany of mistakes, from before he even knocked on the door to Vincent quietly but determinedly leaving. Thankfully, Eliza didn’t interrupt, though occasionally she winced alongside him or raised her eyebrows. By the end, Will was on the brink of tears again. “And now he thinks I’m a jerk and hates me and never wants to see me again,” he finished, staring down at his now cold dregs of tea. “Probably wishes I’d got hung after all.”

“You know that’s not true,” Eliza scolded lightly. She reached over and took the empty mug from his lap, placing it next to hers on the counter. “And yeah, I won’t lie, it sounds like a mess. So what? People have bad dates all the time. Doesn’t mean he hates you or thinks you’re a bad person or wishes you were frickin’ dead.”

“It’s mostly me wishing I was dead,” Will said, and Eliza rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever. My point it, yeah it went badly, and you’re both upset, but that’s _because_ you both want it to work. Apologise, prove you’re really the good guy he got to know, not the cocky bastard you act, and maybe you’ll get another chance.”

Will looked at Eliza with growing wonder. She was definitely the smartest person he knew, even if she had destroyed that globe. “He’d really let me try again?”

“I’m his best friend, not a mind reader. But he likes you a hell of a lot, and I think it’ll take more than one bad night to change that.”

“I just wanted to make him happy,” Will said miserably.

“I believe ya. You just went about it in the worst possible way.”

“What should I do?”

Eliza folded her arms, giving a stern glare. “I’m not telling. If you rely on me, you’ll make the same mistakes again. This time, you’ve gotta figure it out yourself.”

“What if I can’t?” Will asked. He’d grabbed his arm again without realising, fingers digging into the cast through his coat.

“Not the end of the world. It was a _really_ weird night, real life is kinda different. A bad date doesn’t make you a bad person, and neither does not making a relationship work. Yeah, you’d both be a bit brokenhearted, but you’d get over it. Maybe you could try again when he gets into Widdershins?”

Tears pricked Will’s eyes at the prospect of a whole year without Vincent, with Vincent hurt and upset. “Guess you’ve never had your heart broken, because it feels _exactly_ like the end of the world.”

Straightening up, Eliza’s eyes turned cold and hard. “Romantically? No. But that’s not the only way.”

_Oh. Shit._ “I’m sorry,” Will said hastily. His tears evapourated instantly, this was exactly the kind of self-centered idiocy everyone hated, and he was even doing it to his sole actual friend. “That was stupid, I didn’t think -”

“No, you didn’t,” Eliza replied icily, but a moment later she sighed and slumped back in her chair. “Just… for _fuck’s sake_ Will, get it together.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I know you can do better, Knotty knows you can do better. This isn’t like family wanting you to be someone you’re not, it’s friends wanting you to be the person you _are_. And you’re _not_ a jerk.”

“Right. Thanks. Sorry.”

‘Be yourself,’ Eliza was saying. But who was he? Unearned confidence and good hair in place of personality one of the influenced students had said, which sounded about right. But Eliza and Vincent disagreed. They thought there was more to him. Will really hoped they were right. He just wasn’t sure what that ‘more’ was. ‘Not a jerk’ wasn’t a lot to go on.

Maybe, in some messed up way, he should just be grateful for the few good moments with Vincent he’d had and forget about anything else. He couldn’t have nice things, he knew that, why should Vincent be any different? They’d helped each other, he’d seen a little bit of good in him, and that automatically put meeting him in his ‘Top Five Life Events,’ which was actually pretty sad now Will thought about it.

“Hey.” Reaching across, Eliza touched his arm gently - not the broken one, he noticed - and broke into a teasing grin. (Will briefly wondered if this was what a big sister was like.) “You didn’t spend all Friday night obnoxiously flirting just to give up now, did you?”

Will flushed. “I - I wasn’t…”

Eliza looked at him.

“Wasn’t _that_ obnoxious…” he muttered. He still wasn’t sure when flirting had turned from playful to serious - in truth, it was hard to trust any of his emotions from while under Flack’s control influence - but by the time the charm was removed he’d definitely had it bad.

“It was insufferable,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes, but from her the word was warm, full of fondness. And not just for Knotty, Will realised with surprise. She was fond of him too. “If I had to witness all that, I at least want my best friend to get a nice beau out of it.”

Will flushed harder. “Beau…?” He hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but if he could fix things, that was the next step, wasn’t it? The thought made him a little dizzy.

“So promise you’ll do your best tonight, okay?” Eliza’s eyes slid to the clock and she groaned. “Sorry, gotta kick ya out now. Lots to sort out before tomorrow.”

“You’re still working?”

“Will be ‘til late,” she said, getting to her feet. “Always got a few more hours after closing time, been thinking of getting someone else in honestly, it's enough work as is and I don't know how I'll manage when -" She cut herself off, rearranging some bottles on the counter as she did. "Anyway, I couldn't earlier 'cause Knotty was here, and I didn’t get as much prep done as usual during the day because I was busy arguing with that _stupid bastard customer_…” ‘Customer,’ was said vehemently enough to leave no doubt it was just as much an insult as ‘stupid’ and ‘bastard.’

“Poor them. What did they do to deserve that?” Will asked, following her towards the door. Eliza was a scary person to be on the wrong side of.

“Moron decided when the line was halfway out the door was the perfect time to start calling my measurements into question. Not my fault if he can't read and took the wrong dose! But then he started complaining that the druggists in _London_ use those new 'magic machine' scales -"

"'Mecha-phasmic,'" Will corrected without thinking. 

Eliza stumbled in her tirade, giving him a surprised look, then shrugged. "Yeah, that, whatever. Anyway, then he got everyone else all riled up about it, even though wrong with Nan's old scales, and it's not like I could bloody well afford one of those anyway, so -"

The scales in question stood proud on the counter, an enormous device that may once have gleamed but now were a dull, dark colour. Will idly pushed at one bowl and the whole thing squealed. 

"- and it's not the first time either, everyone keeps banging on about it lately and I told 'em, if you've got a problem with my measurements take it up with Gibbet Street, which they don't because -"

"The scales are accurate?" Will asked. An idea was forming. 

"Of course, what kinda druggist do ya take me for?"

"I might be able to help." Pulling a hunk of chalk from his pocket, Will gestured at the scales. "May I?"

"Go for it."

In one fluid sweep, Will drew a circle around the scales, then let his mind zone out as he filled in the details, until he had something that might look like _Honesty_ to the untrained eye. He stepped back to let Eliza take a closer look. 

"What did ya do?" she asked, squinting suspiciously. 

"Just drew a circle," he replied. "No summons. Leave that there, clean up the scales so they look new and I guarantee nobody's going to say anything again.”

“You reckon?”

Will nodded, tucking away the chalk away again. “If it looks how they’re expecting it to, they won’t look too closely. Trust me, phasmia-psychologist remember? Well, in training, but still.”

“And you’re sure this is legal? No offence, but you don’t have the best track record.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Besides, it’s nothing we haven’t been doing for hundreds of years. We were doing about it in History of Magic earlier today.”

Eliza cocked her head to the side, watching him thoughtfully. “Huh, pretty neat. Thanks. You’d hafta tell me more about it sometime.” She walked him over to the door and smiled. “You’re actually kinda a nerd, aren’t ya?”

Will rubbed the back of his neck, one hand on the door. Probably not a jerk, and a bit of a nerd? It was a start, he supposed. “Uh, thanks for the tea,” he said, then realised he was echoing Vincent’s words from earlier. “And… everything.”

“Good luck,” Eliza said, then crossed her arms in mock sterness. “And hey, when Knotty pops in here tomorrow morning, I want to see him smiling, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” Will replied, forcing a grin he knew Eliza wouldn’t believe. He wanted that too, he just didn’t have a clue how he’d ever make it happen.

Spirits were high back in the dorm, with everyone in various states of changed for going out, and all too busy to pay Will any notice as he slipped in. He sat on his bed with a sigh, Eliza’s words still running through his mind. She thought he had a chance, but that still didn’t answer _what_ he would do with it. Probably fuck it all up again, knowing him.

Jaros burst through the door, waving a handful of envelopes. “Why am I the only one who ever checks our postbox?” he asked, already handing Holland his letters. 

“Because we all know you’re going to do it anyway,” Johnson replied in place of thanks as he took his. 

“Any for me?” Will asked suddenly as a burst of hope bloomed. Vincent knew his room, perhaps he could have left a note or -

Jaros shook his head. “Sorry. But one for you, Murphy.”

“Hm?” Murphy, reading the textbook spread on his bed even as he buttoned his shirt, looked up in surprise. “Oh, cheers,” he said, and slit the envelope open. His eyebrows lowered, and he leant against the wall to read. 

Johnson, still doing up his cravat, wandered to the foot of Will’s bed. “Hurry up and change if you’re going to, Sharpe. We’re off in a minute.”

Right, he’d nearly forgotten. Group activities included him, for the moment. “Where are we going again?”

“Hunter’s Folly.”

“On a Tuesday night?”

“Apparently last week the music was good, some bloke with a violin. We’re hoping he’s there again.”

Will considered, drumming his fingers against his leg. The Hunter’s Folly wasn’t far from Vincent’s lodging house. Perhaps he’d run into Vincent, and be saved the awkwardness of trying to meet with him properly. It had to be worth a try. He got to his feet and grinned. “Is this mystery violin man handsome?”

Johnson rolled his eyes. “You never change. How should I know?”

“We’d better go find out then.”

“Everyone ready?” Johnson called to the room. “Murphy?”

Murphy jerked his head up from his letter. “Huh? Oh, actually... I’m going to stay in.” He tapped his book. “You know.”

“Alright,” Johnson said, shrugging. “Your loss.”

Curfew wasn’t until nine, so everyone made their way to the university gates unafraid, laughing and chattering and nudging each other. Will lingered at the back, for once unwilling to draw attention to himself. It was a slim chance Vincent would be there, but right now he had nothing. Not even an inkling of what he would say if he was. Still, he’d always been quick to improvise.

A group of students lingered by the gates, waiting for them. A tall blond boy waved his arm. “Took you long enough!”

_Wright_, Will realised with a shock of nerves. The last time he’d seen him, he’d punched him in the face after dropping from the vent. Before that, him and his cronies had said a lot of things Will _really _didn’t want to remember ever again. If he was here, the other three undoubtedly would be too. At the thought, Will’s steps faltered, and he stumbled to a halt. 

“Alright?” Holland asked.

“Fine,” Will muttered, but didn’t start walking again. He wasn’t _afraid_ of them, but it was like his body was reliving the memory, muscles tensing, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. “Actually, I just realised I forgot my wallet. I’ll run back and get it, you lot go ahead.”

Holland frowned, but his great shoulders rose and fell in a slow shrug. “Alright, I’ll tell ‘em.”

It took all of Will’s self-control to saunter, not run, back to the dorm.

Now he was away from everyone, walking down the halls of the dormhouse alone, Will started to feel rather foolish. He’d done a lot of that recently. What did it matter if Wright and his friends were there? Without the compulsion, they wouldn’t actually _hurt_ him. Insult him, probably, but sticks and stones, right? And now he’d run away again, and time was getting on, and he _still_ didn’t know what to do about Vincent.

He stopped outside his dorm’s door. Maybe he should give up, run away from everything. Even if he did manage to ‘be himself’ with Vincent, would he like who he truly was? And how did he know ‘himself’ was the same person he’d been that night? Who’s to say the ‘real him’ Eliza and Vincent believed in wasn’t yet another construction, buried beneath the others? Vulnerability couldn’t be much harder to fake than confidence, perhaps he’d done so unknowingly. And now he’d forgotten how to fake that new person Vincent liked more, and didn’t know how not to fake whoever he was usually that nobody liked, and there was no point going to see him because he’d do it wrong and it would hurt all over again.

Or he’d pretend it hurt. That might be another layer of the act. 

Whatever the truth, moping in the corridor wouldn’t do much good. Not when he had a reasonably comfortable bed to mope in instead.

Just as he reached for the doorknob, he caught a faint sound and froze. Was that… a sob? He waited, ears pricked, and this time when it came he was certain. Someone was crying. 

Will drew back. Not the sort of situation he ever involved himself in.Curfew was in half an hour, he could find somewhere quiet until whoever was in there finished and -

His stomach turned. Murphy. It had to be. He’d stayed behind, and hadn’t he been snappy in the study hall? But that didn’t make any sense. Murphy was always quietly confident and collected, he wasn’t the sort to cry. 

Mind you, they’d all thought that of him until last night. 

That settled it. Murphy had taken on the awful task of helping him last night, he couldn’t very well leave him to it. Knocking softly on the door, Will waited a moment, then cracked it open and peered around. “Everything okay?”

Murphy looked up with something between a gasp and a sniff, arms wrapped tight around his body. “I - I thought you all went out,” he stammered, swiping at his red face with the back of his hand. “This isn’t - uh -”

Will shut the door behind him and twisted the lock. “There are better places to breakdown than the dorm anyone can walk into,” he said conversationally as he approached Murphy’s bed. “The bathroom’s classic, some might say cliche, but it does the job. Or the vents, they’re not bad, as I found out last week.”

Despite the tears, Murphy squinted at him. “Why were you in the vents?” he asked, his voice thick.

“It was a weird night,” Will said. He gestured at the space next to Murphy. “Can I sit?”

“Go for it.”

Will did, leaning back as he considered what to say. This was far from his area of expertise. “Are you alright?” he went for. 

“Stupid to say ‘yes,’ I suppose,” Murphy replied, waving a hand vaguely at himself. “But yeah, it’s fine really. Don’t worry.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” Murphy sighed. “Nothing new.”

Will’s eyes drifted to the opened envelope on his bedside table. “Family trouble?” he guessed.

It was like he’d been shocked. Murphy instantly straightened, twisting away. “N-no,” he said. He was always so honest, lying obviously didn’t come easy to him. “Why would you say that?”

“You stayed in after you got that letter,” Will said. “Earlier, you were clearly uncomfortable with Holland’s ‘jokes’ about his dad. And I might be the most self-absorbed person in Widdershins - which is quite an achievement, by the way - but I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned your family.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Neither have you.”

“For a reason,” Will said quietly. It was an open secret, by now everyone knew his parents hadn’t shown up on Saturday morning, but it still felt a shameful admission. He wasn’t the one who should be ashamed though, that at least he was sure of by now. 

“Oh. That’s tough.”

“It is,” Will agreed, though he wasn’t talking about himself and Murphy knew it. “You can tell me about it if you want,” he offered. “I am… _criminally_ good at Phasmia-Psychology. Might help.”

A laugh startled out of Murphy, making them both jump. “God, you’re so weird,” he said, shaking his head. “Not in a bad way. Well, not always in a bad way.”

“I prefer ‘unique.’ Or ‘singular.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Definitely weird.” Murphy’s chuckle dried up and he stared at his hands in his lap. “It’s not important really. Just the usual - mad about results, mad I missed my sister’s birthday party because of lectures, mad my last letter was only three pages… It’s my fault, I should have -”

Will frowned, indignation firing through him. “That’s rubbish,” he said vehemently. “You were in the top twenty for exams, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but -”

“And how can they expect you to do better if you play truant?”

Murphy’s hands tightened together. “I could - well, maybe…”

“I’m surprised you wrote even three sides if they’re just having a go when they reply.” Suddenly, Will was inexplicably pissed at these people he’d never met. Murphy was a decent chap, nothing like the disappointment he was. His family should be proud, not reducing him to tears. “Hardly sounds worth it to me.”

“They don’t always - Mostly they’re fine, really. Usually I don’t mind if they’re a bit… like that. But I was already stressed over the reading, and Holland wouldn’t shut up, and it all…” Trailing off, Murphy swiped his hand across his cheek again. 

“Family really is the worst, huh?”

“They’re not so bad really,” Murphy said, and Will winced. He’d heard those words once before today. “I... love them, a lot. But I’m not good at long letters. And when I’m home, I’d rather do normal things like visit town with Leslie and play chess than formal parties. I know I’m being rude and distant, but I don’t really know how not to be.”

Will shook his head. “People have different love languages. You just express yourself differently than they do. If they’re forcing you to show affection in their specific ways, of course they’re going to be disappointed. They need to pay attention to how you _actually_ show care.” He cracked a grin when Murphy looked at him in surprise. “What? Phasmia-psychology includes normal psychology too. ”

“You’re unexpectedly good at this,” Murphy said, smiling ruefully. “So thanks. And… sorry you saw that.”

“You had to deal with me last night. I chose to come in here.”

“Are you, uh, feeling any better?”

Leaning back, Will kicked out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. His first instinct was to lie, but Murphy had been open with him. “Ah, not exactly,” he admitted. “I’ll get over it.”

Murphy frowned sympathetically. “Date with the hangman’s son really went that bad?”

“Uh huh. Entirely my fault. I was too dramatic and showy because I thought he’d like romance like that but… I’d have been happy on a park bench with him for three hours. Or even the vents again.”

“This boy was _also_ in the vents?”

“I told you, it was a weird night.”

“I’m beginning to see.” Murphy exhaled slowly and shook his head. “If you wanted to go to a park bench, why didn’t you?”

“Well, not _specifically _a park bench, but -”

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s not very romantic. He wouldn’t like it.” Though that wasn’t all of it either. He’d _wanted_ to show off, to show he was fine and unafraid, the kind of thinking that always landed him in trouble.

“Did he tell you that?” Murphy demanded. 

“No, but -”

“Did you ask?”

Will squirmed. He wasn’t so stupid as not to know what he was getting at. “Well, no…”

“So you just decided that other stuff was more romantic, and made yourself do it, nevermind what either of you would _actually_ like. I might not get your psychology stuff, but sounds to me like you’re the ones mixing up your ‘love languages’ or whatever. Next time, you should remember your own advice.”

“If I even get a next time,” Will muttered. “He’s leaving tomorrow.”

“Seriously?”

“Uh huh. With only a slim chance of returning anytime soon,” he added gloomily.

With pure bafflement, Murphy stared at him. “Christ, Sharpe. How’d you get yourself in these messes?”

“It’s a gift. Or a curse. To balance out my devilish good looks, you see.”

“Riiight... But what the hell are you still doing here? Go win him back! That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes - but - how? Where would we go? What would we do?” For most of his life, Will had tried his best to do what other people wanted, even when he hadn’t wanted to at all. Then, when he’d realised that would never be enough, he’d switched to doing what they specifically _didn’t_ want him to do. This, thinking of what he wanted to do that would also make someone else happy? This was all new.

Murphy shrugged, completely unconcerned. “Probably start by apologising, if you were an ass last night. As for the rest… You’d think of something.”

Will frowned, thinking of all he knew about Vincent. Not a whole lot. He liked books, he liked Law, he travelled a lot, he wanted to go to Widdershins…

The seed of an idea sprouted. It _felt_ romantic, and rather daring, a bit silly, but exactly the sort of thing he wanted to do with Vincent. All the thrill of their own private little adventure, without the threat of death.

“What if he doesn’t like it?”

“Can’t be helped. If you’re actually doing what you want though, and being yourself, if he likes you, I’m sure he’ll be happy.” Murphy smiled briefly, then quickly looked away. “And, um. For what it’s worth,” he added casually. “I like you a lot more like this than when you act like a peacock.”

“An attractive peacock though, don’t you agree?,” Will couldn’t resist asking, because the way Murphy’s whole face went pink under his freckles was always funny. 

Rolling his eyes, Murphy pushed Will off the bed. “You know what? I’m officially chucking you out. You’re not allowed back in until you’ve at least talked to him.”

Will got to his feet with a grin. “Aw, Murphy, I didn’t know you cared so much about my dating life.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. If I don’t make you leave, you’ll kick yourself for not trying, and we’ll all have to listen to it for weeks and it’ll be really annoying. Now shoo.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” Will looked down at himself, the plain grey suit he’d put on when he’d dragged himself out of bed that morning. Dressing super fancy for Vincent might not have gone well before, but if he was to ‘be himself,’ this time that had to include dress. And plain grey was _not_ him. Green was. “Just let me change.”

By the time Will reached Vincent’s lodging house the city bells had already pronounced it past nine. Not ideal, but even with an early start the next day he doubted the Knotts would be asleep already. Even so, he hammered extra hard on the door to ensure he’d be heard. If this worked, he’d probably be forgiven. If not, eh, they already hated him.

He’d expected the landlady again, but when the door opened it was stone-faced Mr Knott. “Yer back,” he said stiffly.

Will grinned and was surprised to find it wasn’t forced. Something like what he’d felt that night, an exhilarating cocktail of adrenaline and ‘I’m doomed anyway,’ seemed to bring out the devil-may-care. Energy zipped through him - he could barely keep himself from bouncing on the spot - and suddenly Mr Knott wasn’t so scary after all. “Hi! Good evening! Can I talk to Vincent?”

Brows lowered, Mr Knott’s eyes drifted to the hallway behind him. “Not sure that’s a good idea, lad.”

“Please? It would only take a minute.”

“Ye’ve got him in a right state as is. Enough’s happened already, I don’t want y’upsettin’ him anymore.”

“I understand. But that’s why I want to make things right. Please, I - I need to see him again.”

“Sorry,” Mr Knott said, and he did sound it. “Jus’ seems ‘t’would be best t’ forget th’ whole thing.” He shook his head, and went to close the door.

In the hallway behind him, Will caught a flicker of movement, and maybe the creak of a stair. “Wait!”

Mr Knott paused.

“At least give him a message. Ask him to meet me in front of the university gates, in an hour.”

“At this time o’ night?”

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “I would have come earlier, but I didn’t _actually_ think to do this until about, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Yer not ‘xactly reassurin’ me as t’ yer reliability,” Mr Knott said, frowning. “Obviously ‘m grateful fer yer savin’ my boy an’ all, but…” He adjusted his collar and Will caught a glimpse of Vincent in the awkward action. “Courtin’ is a whole ‘nother matter. Y’might mean well, but I’ve got t’ look after him. Think it’s best ye get goin’ now.”

Will nodded, but he wasn’t looking at Mr Knott. Rather, behind him in the gloom of the hallway, he thought he saw a shadow on the staircase. “Understood. Have a good night.” He raised his voice slightly. “But I’ll be outside the gates in an hour whether you tell him or not.”

With the door shut, Will took a moment to breathe deeply, before the jumpy impatient excited feeling took over again. For better or worse, he’d done what he could there. Now he had just under an hour to prepare the rest. A few places to pop into, a few people to charm… He grinned to himself as he headed into town. This was going to be the best date ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo hoo made it in time! Sorry for the lateness, lots happened today and I decided to change an entire section last minute and then I discovered the statue of david is 17ft tall?? V distressing. Too tired to think of anything to say about this one, hope you enjoyed, any thoughts on what Will's plan is? Thx 4 reding <3
> 
> (sorry for any typos I didn't proofread so please let me know if you catch any)


	5. I'll miss you.

As the university bells rang ten, Will steeled himself against the urge to run home and curl up, rather than spend another second here, exposed and in the open, waiting beneath a streetlight. Again, it wasn’t until the moment itself he fully appreciated he was about to see Vincent again. Again, it was both wonderful and terrifying. Currently, wonderful was winning, but only just. If he showed up - and that was a big _ if _ \- it might only be to give him a piece of his mind. Still, if it meant seeing him one last time, Will wouldn’t even care.

Okay, that was a lie. He _ would _ care, but seeing Vincent would be the silver lining.

The wicker handle of the basket dug into his hand, so he put it down, then immediately picked it up again. Just standing around next to it would look weird. But standing around holding a basket probably also looked weird. Meeting this late outside the university was _ definitely _ weird, right? He was beginning to think maybe this attempt was as poorly thought through as the last.

That horrible squirming feeling had started again in his stomach, but this time he didn’t ignore it or push it away. He was nervous. So what? He would brave a little nervousness for Vincent’s sake.

(Or a lot.)

(It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten today, or he’d worry he might be sick.)

The illuminated clock on the high tower ticked off the minutes. Five past, ten past, quarter past… If he wasn’t here by twenty past he’d leave, Will decided, then immediately rescinded on that vow the second the big hand hit four. He did set the basket by his feet though, and by twenty-eight past was pacing around it. As the bells chimed for half-past he briefly considered heading in, but knew it was more likely he’d be stood there until dawn. He frowned as he watched a few clouds drift by overhead - hopefully they’d have cleared by the time Vincent arrived.

If he was coming.

By ten to, Will had settled into an uncomfortable lean against the street lamp, eyelids drooping, when the slap of running footsteps on the cobbles caught his attention. He straightened up just as Vincent came running out of the darkness, one hand holding on a top hat, and came to a stop on the edge of the circle of lamplight. 

Will beamed, his nerves momentarily blown away by the simple joy of seeing him alive and well and, most importantly, _ here. _ “Vincent! You came!”

Panting, Vincent smiled weakly. “Sorry I’m late. I w-wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

“I’d wait all night for you,” Will replied without thinking. It didn’t sound like his usual over the top proclamations, maybe because it was entirely true. He stepped closer and noticed although he was still in his usual coat, Vincent had put on a golden cravat, and a matching well-cut (if slightly dated) waistcoat. “You look…” A hundred words flitted through his mind - handsome, gorgeous, charming, adorable, _ perfect _ \- but didn’t quite make it to his mouth so Will found himself flushing as he mumbled, “…nice.”

“Oh! Uh.” Vincent pulled the hat off, clutching at the brim with both hands. “I thought maybe y-you dress all nice again, so I thought… W-well, actually, I wasn’t sure what this was. I wanted to t-try, though. Um. That’s partly why I’m late though, sorry.” He bit his lip, looking incredibly sweet, before glancing down at the hat in his hands. “Oh, I should have brought yours back! I’m s-sorry.”

Now they were closer, Will could see Vincent was flushed too. It was utterly endearing, and utterly unfair. When he blushed he just felt like a stupid red mess. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad to see you.”

Vincent dropped his eyes. “Even after I ran off? I’m s-so sorry, it was -”

“Please don’t apologise. It’s my fault. I wanted to impress you, but I ended up acting like an ass and -”

“_ You _ wanted to impress _ me? _” Vincent asked, looking up again in surprise. “But… why?”

“Because…” _ Impressing people is what I do, _ Will wanted to answer, but the truth spilled out. “Because you’re amazing,” he said, breaking into a soft smile. “You saved my life, you’re my knight in shining… fake lawyer clothes. You’re good, and kind, and brave, and smart, and cute, and you saw something in me like nobody else did, and you make me go all…” - He shook his hands, trying to communicate the immenseness of how Vincent made him feel - “…butterflies inside, and I _ really _ don’t want to disappoint you.” He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry I did.”

“Will, no -” Vincent grabbed Will’s hand and squeezed, his voice quiet but earnest. “You’re the amazing one. You’re all funny, and c-clever, and uh,” - he ducked his head and let go, suddenly shy - “handsome? And brave! You saved me and Eliza’s lives loads when you could have gotten away, s-so really you’re my knight in s-shining Eliza’s weird old c-clothes.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, frozen, alone on a deserted street in a pool of glowing light, only a few feet apart, first brought together by the most improbable and fantastical circumstances, now together again through a willingness to try, and Will felt very keenly he was on the cliff-edge, the tipping point, he would either fly or fall.

Then, as one, they started to laugh.

And Will flew.

“I thought they were rather stylish actually,” he choked out between gasps for breath, which only made Vincent laugh harder. He had a lovely laugh, deeper than expected, and full of joy. Will instantly resolved to hear it as much as possible.

Eventually, they both managed to stop giggling - their laughter had an edge of hysteria so it took a while to gather themselves - and Vincent straightened his shoulders. “We kind of made a m-mess of things, didn’t we? I was pretty n-nervous... I never had a date before, I didn’t know w-what to do. ”

“Me neither. I tried to be romantic, but I didn’t think about what either of us would actually like. But, if you’d give me another chance…” Will smiled and took Vincent’s good hand (his heart _ absolutely _ did not need to skip a beat like that, but he’d accepted by now normal rules no longer applied.) “I promise I’ll do better. No showing off, no pretending to be someone else, no terrible student plays… We’ll pretend that night never happened, and take this as our proper date. What do you say?”

His heart pounded as he held his breath, waiting for Vincent’s response. Maybe he hadn’t sounded sincere enough, maybe the other night had been too big a disaster, maybe Vincent had only come along to find out why he was so terrible before leaving forever, maybe this had been a ridiculous idea, maybe -

“I’d really l-like that,” Vincent said, and his smile was brighter than the streetlight, brighter than the moon and stars and more lovely too, and in the back of his mind Will noted that he _ really _ had it bad. “Now? Me and Dad leave early tomorrow and -”

Will looked around before grabbing the basket from where he’d left it on the ground. “Midnight picnic sound good to you?”

Beaming, Vincent nodded. “Where are we going?”

“In there,” Will said, pointing at the towering spires of the university. “I’ve got something to show you.”

He lead them quietly but fairly quickly through the dimly lit university halls, his eyes more often than Vincent than where they were going. It was impossible to stop smiling in the most ridiculously sappy way.

“Where are you t-taking me?” Vincent asked.

Will tapped his nose. “It’s a surprise. You’ll like it though.”

“Are w-we allowed to be here?”

“Well, it’s past curfew,” Will admitted. “But that just means nobody should be around. And it’s not far.”

“Oh.” Vincent sounded pleased. He looked down, then skipped closer and slid his arm around Will’s.

Will almost tripped over his own feet. 

“I-is this okay?” Vincent asked, drawing back slightly. “Should I -?”

“No. I mean, yes, I - uh…” Will closed his eyes while his heart rocketed at a million beats per minute, his face burning. When they were hiding from - well, anyway - when Vincent had grabbed his arm the first time he’d got the same jittery feeling, but had put it down to the high-pressure situation. No such excuse this time. Vincent just had a way of doing things to him. “You don’t mind?”

Vincent squeezed his arm and smiled. “N-not if it’s just us.”

A fresh wave of heat washed over Will and he had to look away. He wanted to be open with Vincent, but how flustered he got over a simple touch and smile was... embarrassing, frankly. Maybe he could still keep things like that to himself, lest they be used against him. Although, as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Will found actually he liked the idea of Vincent intentionally flustering him _ a lot, _ but quickly shut that down. He wanted to focus on enjoying his time with Vincent now. 

They didn’t have far to go down those larger halls, soon turning down a branching corridor, then up a narrow spiral staircase, then through more halls until they were passing through old, half-forgotten classrooms full of spider’s webs and dust. “They teach more down in the Depths nowadays,” Will explained. “Most of these haven’t been used for years.”

“This is what you w-wanted to show me?” Vincent asked curiously as they ducked into another tiny stairway half-hidden by an empty bookshelf. 

“Not quite.” Will grinned as they made their way up. “Nearly there. Close your eyes?” Vincent shut them without thought, and allowed Will to guide him up the final corner. Will led up and out to the middle of the small mezzanine, then let go. “Ta dah!”

Opening his eyes, Vincent stared at the library spread below them, and beamed. “It’s beautiful!” he exclaimed, rushing to the banister to take a better look. Will joined him, though he was more interested in Vincent’s smile as he gazed up at the great glass dome overhead. Silver moonbeams streamed down to the maze of shelves and tables below, illuminating the intricate carvings of the wood and the gleaming artifacts in their cases. The mezzanine was one of several little nooks perched over the library, high above the shelves and the walkways ringing the room below. A forgotten little corner Will had persuaded one of the librarians to tell him the way to, with the promise he kept it secret, and didn’t make a mess.

“You like it?” Will couldn’t help asking. “I thought since you’re trying to get in, you’d want to see where you’d be studying. That’s the law section, down there,” he added, pointing at a vast expanse of shelves. 

“I’ve n-never seen so many books,” Vincent said reverently. “And the roof… It’s so pretty. Y-you can even see the stars!”

“You should try sitting under it in a storm. With the rain pounding down, it’s incredible.”

Vincent looked at him with a strange softness. “You l-like the rain?” 

“Love it.”

“Mm, m-me too. Usually. It was raining when they tried t-to…” He sucked in a breath and the corner of his mouth twitched as Will patted his arm. “And n-not much good for travelling in. Gets my book wet if I’m reading.”

“What do you read?” It was strange, he never did this, not just the asking questions but genuinely wanting, _ needing _ to know.

“Uh, sometimes mystery novels. Mostly l-law books. Boring I know.” Vincent laughed a little. “But interesting to me.”

“Lucky for me then,” Will replied and this time it sounded right. “But, didn’t your dad see you reading all that?”

“Kind of? He’d ask a bit, but he wasn’t that fussed about what was in them. Dad’s not much of one for books,” Vincent explained. “That was always Mum’s thing. She’s the one who t-taught me to read and all.” He looked out at the library again and smiled. “She’d have l-loved to see this.”

Will’s first instinct was to steer away conversation, surely this wasn’t the right topic for a date? Yet it felt far more right than anything of their first attempt. Vincent obviously cared deeply for his mother, whoever she had been. And Will found he wanted to know more. 

“I’m sure she’d have been proud of you,” he blurted without thinking.

Vincent looked as surprised as he felt. “I hope so,” he replied softly. “Um. I think s-she’d have been proud of y-you too, actually. If that’s not too strange to say.”

Will blinked. “Me?”

“Y-yeah. I mean, you saved me, but aside from that. You tried so hard, and were so brave despite everything a-and…” Shrugging, Vincent moved in closer, still smiling but a little sad. “Anyway, she’d have loved you for sure.”

“I’m honoured,” Will said truthfully. He felt a burst of grief for this woman he would never know. “Could you... tell me a bit about her maybe? And you? I… don’t really know much about you. Like where did you grow up? How did you meet Eliza? What’s your favourite book? Wh -”

Vincent’s laughter cut him off as he held up his hands. “O-one thing at a time! And y-you have to tell me things too. I don’t know much about you either.”

“Well, if you insist. I _ do _ love to talk about myself. Most people aren’t too inclined to listen though.”

“Most people don’t know what you’re l-like.”

“A loudmouth?”

“Among o-other things.” Vincent looked at the basket in Will’s hand. “Did you say we’re having a picnic?”

“Oh, yes!” Will had almost forgotten, but as soon as Vincent mentioned it he realised he was starving. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, sorry,” he said as he opened the basket and pulled out his bed’s blanket. He spread it on the floor and started to lay out the food. “I’ve got cheese sandwiches, apples, some boiled eggs, and…” He removed the bottle and presented it to Vincent with a grin. “Wine!” 

“Where did you get all this?”. 

“That I bought from the pub on my way back from yours. And remember the cook lady who threw knives at us?”

“I’m n-not likely to forget.”

“Well, turns out she felt _ really _ bad about it. She’s been ever so nice to me ever since I got back. I popped in, said hi, mentioned I’d missed dinner and could really do with a bite to eat… Had to stop her giving me anymore than this.” He gave up searching the basket and sat back with a sigh. “Damn, forgot any glasses though. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. Did you bring a c-corkscrew?”

“Here.”

Vincent took it and removed the cork in a few swift twists, then leant back against the banister and drank straight from the bottle. For a moment, the moon gave him a silver glow around his silhouette and Will took the opportunity to inscribe every detail to memory - the bounce of his hair, the way his eyes fell half-closed, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the shape of him, his warmth, how utterly bloody beautiful he was. “Mm, that’s nice,” Vincent, said lowering the bottle again. “Want it back?”

Will realised he’d forgotten to breathe. “Uh.”

“Oh, sorry, shouldn’t I have?” Swiping his sleeve end over the top, Vincent chewed his lip. 

“No, it’s fine,” Will assured him, forcing himself back to his senses. He accepted the outstretched bottle and took an eager gulp (He didn’t flush at the thought of Vincent’s lips in the same place moments before. He _ didn’t _ .) patting the blanket next to him as he did. “You _ are _ old enough to drink, right?” he suddenly thought to ask. Not that it mattered particularly. “Gods, I don’t even know how old you are.”

“Just nineteen,” Vincent said, settling next to him. “My b-birthday’s was a few weeks ago.” Even though it was ages away, Will’s mind raced to what he could get him for his twentieth. A book would likely be best, but which one? He’d have to ask what else he liked. A little part of Will was surprised at himself - he’d never been fussed about birthdays, his own or other people’s - but not really. Vincent was always different. “Had to be e-eighteen before I c-could start doing the… family business,” Vincent continued. “How old are you?”

“Twenty. My birthday’s a few months off.” Thank god. They were always awful. Though maybe if he could spend one with Vincent it wouldn’t be so bad. 

“I grew up in Widdershins, until I was o-old enough to travel. Eliza lived on the same street as me. You?”

“Cambridge. Which is why I sound like a posh twat.”

“I l-like your voice.”

Will smiled. “That’s lucky, since you hear such a lot of it.”

“I could listen all n-night,” Vincent said, then went very red. “Um. Pretend I didn’t s-say that. It sounds so silly.”

“A little,” Will agreed, and took his hand. 

They talked most of the night, or so it felt, passing the bottle back and forth along with questions. They’d started sat apart, hands joined, but somehow by the time the bells announced two Will was propped against the wall with Vincent slumped in his arms. Heaven. Conversation had finally slowed, not into awkwardness, but a comfortable, tipsy peace. 

“Y-you smell nice,” Vincent murmured, shifting so he was pressed closer against him. “Reminds me of something.”

Will made a mental note to thank Eliza profoundly. “New cologne,” he explained. He tightened his hold slightly, breathing in. Vincent was reassuring solid, he was present, reliable, safe both in himself and for Will. He was also gorgeous, and Will had to battle his alcohol-loosened urge to run his hands all over. “You kind of smell like… ginger?”

“Oh! It’ll b-be the biscuits.”

“Biscuits?”

Vincent nodded, patting his breast pocket. “I get travel s-sick reading. Ginger biscuits help. M-must have left one in here.”

Will was struck with the image of Vincent hunched over a book in a cart, forehead wrinkled in concentration and a half-eaten gingersnap in hand. No obstacle to his studies was insurmountable it seemed, not even his father in the end. “Does it really work?”

“Uh huh. Eliza’s the one who told it me, and she knows everything about that stuff.” Vincent suddenly sighed, deflating against Will. “Speaking of travelling… I should get back. N-need to sleep before we go.”

Ignoring his first instinct to grab Vincent tighter and never let go, Will nodded. “I’ve got a half-eight lecture. Go on, up you get.”

With a groan, Vincent got to his feet before offering Will a hand up afterwards. Now they were face to face, no distance apart at all really. Will swallowed, unable to stop his eyes flicking down to Vincent’s lips.

“Thank you for tonight,” Vincent said. Even in the dim light, his eyes were a beautiful green. This close, Will could make out little flecks of hazel too. He didn’t want to move, would have been quite happy gazing into those eyes forever. Or, five minutes for sure. For someone with as short an attention span as him, they were essentially the same thing. “I had a really nice time.”

For a long moment, Will just stood there, until it dawned on him he was supposed to say something back. It wasn’t fair, Vincent’s lips were _ incredibly _ distracting. “Me too,” he said, the words sticking a little. His mouth had gone dry, and it wasn’t the wine’s fault. “Thank _ you _. For everything. You’re incredible.”

Flushing, Vincent parted his lips. “Will…” he began softly, barely more than breathing the words. His eyes were firmly on Will’s mouth.

Oh gods, _ oh gods, _this was too much. Will’s heart beat so hard he was sure Vincent must be able to hear it, even feel it at this distance. He skipped back, and busied himself collecting the remains of their picnic. “Let me - I’ll just get this lot,” he said, his voice overly bright even as he tripped over the words. “Then we can go.”

Vincent’s face fell briefly, then he smiled. “Okay, l-let me help.”

How was he so _ sweet _? And how did he make such a mess of him? It took Will’s trembling hands two attempts to buckle the basket shut. He wouldn’t have traded the feeling for anything.

Will had intended to walk Vincent all the way back to the lodging house, stealing an extra fifteen minutes with him in the process, but when they reached the university gates Vincent stopped and gave an apologetic smile.

“Probably best you don’t c-come with me,” he said, fidgeting with a button on his coat. “Since you’ve got lectures in the morning, and you’d have to w-walk all across town, and my dad is probably up waiting still, so -”

“Will he be angry with you?” Will asked, suddenly full of anxiety. “I’m sorry, I never should have -”

Vincent reached out to touch his arm gently, and shook his head. “No, no, it’s alright. He knew I heard y-you earlier, and tried to tell me not to come. I thought about sneaking out, but then I said to him, ‘I’m nineteen, I c-can make my own decisions now, and besides, Will’s a good person really. I w-want to see him again.’”

“And he… was okay with that?”

“In the e-end. We had a really long talk, I don’t think we’ve ever done like that before. He wants me to be happy, it just took a bit of c-convincing _ this _was what I wanted. That’s half the reason I was l-late.”

“And the other half?”

Groaning in embarrassment, Vincent hid his face in his hands and Will thought he might die from how sweet he was. “_ Then _ he helped me g-get ready,” Vincent explained, slowly lowering his hands. “Made me go wash my face and find my nice hair ribbon and fussed about my c-clothes, he’s even worse than me for faffing…”

Will chuckled, his heart swelling at the thought of Vincent trying _ so hard _ for him once again. He didn’t deserve him, beautiful, brave, stubborn, _ lovely _Vincent. Will was sure he fell harder by the day. “You could have come in anything, you’d still be gorgeous.”

“W-Will!” Vincent squeaked, hiding his face again, and Will smiled. Maybe he wasn’t the only one easily flustered.

“I hope I made all the fuss worth it.”

“You did.” No hesitation. Shifting on the spot, Vincent glanced over his shoulder to the street behind. “Uh, I should…”

“Yes, of course.”

Neither moved.

Will counted to three. This might be his last chance. If he didn’t try he’d definitely regret it. He might also regret it if he _ did _try, but he had a feeling Vincent was thinking the same thing. “Before you go,” he began, his voice slightly strained. “I was wondering if, ah -”

Vincent stepped a little closer. “Y-yes?”

This was such an awkward way to ask, but he’d started now, he wasn’t sure he could blush any harder and the heat was frying his brain. “If you would like to - well, just now, upstairs, I thought you - but then - and I wasn’t sure - but if you would like -”

Before he could finish asking, Vincent leaned in and kissed him. After the night they’d had it shouldn’t have been a surprise such an anxious figure could hide such boldness, but it still was, every time. The kiss was short but lightning sweet. The bite of wine lingered on their lips, the tang of ginger in the air. Will’s eyes fell shut and he gripped Vincent’s wrist, wishing he could somehow transfer all the mixed-up, terrifying, wonderful feelings he gave him through the simple action. He tried to make his kiss say _sorry_ and _thank you_ and _you’re beautiful_ and _I l- _**_like_** _you a crazy amount _and _I think I’m a little crazy but things make more sense with you_.

Maybe it just said _ let’s kiss _ though. That was alright too.

Vincent pulled back first, smiling shyly with a hint of mischief. “Was that w-what you wanted?”

Oh. Turned out Will _ could _ blush even more. “Absolutely,” he said, not caring how it sounded. Vincent knew how much he liked him by now. 

“Me too.”

Looking at him now, Will was struck by how much he meant already. On impulse, he pulled him into a sudden hug and buried his face in his shoulder, afraid to let go. With Vincent he was safe, and Vincent was safe with him. Vincent let him be himself.

But Vincent had to be himself too, and that meant leaving for a while, and studying law, wherever that might be. “I’ll miss you.”

“You too,” Vincent replied softly, closing his arms around him, holding him close. “I’ll write. And visit, when I c-can.” He loosened his embrace, and Will reluctantly let go. “Keep an eye on Eliza for me, u-until then?”

“More like she’ll keep an eye on me,” Will corrected with a chuckle.

“That works too.” Vincent looked at Will a long moment, chewing his lip like he had something else to say. Another moment neither wanted to end.

Will forced a grin. “Go on, off with you,” he said, making a shooing gesture. “No more dramatics. Save that for our reunion.”

Laughing, Vincent nodded. “Alright then. Bye, Will.”

“Goodbye, Vincent.”

Will didn’t stop watching until he disappeared from sight. Didn’t stop smiling until he fell asleep in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hopefully that's enough fluff to make up for chapter 2?? :3 They get there in the end! What did you guys think? And now you see why I was stressed Knotty's going to the library, I liked my library already! 
> 
> That's the last full chapter, we've got a little epilogue left wrapping up one or two things which should be edited in time and then that's it, pretty sure my longest Widdershins fic! Thanks to everyone who's read, left kudos, commented and stood in solidarity with me in my ignorance of fine art so far, I hope you've had fun! <3 cya Monday for epilogue!
> 
> ps: I think I've removed all the weird links to nowhere on this chapter but I might have missed some, I've no idea what they are but potentially something to do with Google docs?? Anyway, if you see one, please give a shout so I can sort it out, cheers.


	6. Epilogue

_ One Week Later… _

“So you see, if I don’t send a letter  _ today,  _ he’ll have moved on by the time it reaches him,” Will explained, doing his best to balance the armful of bottles Eliza was piling on him. “Moved on physically I mean, not romantically.” He frowned, thinking for a moment. “Oh god, what if romantically as well?”

Eliza sighed, leaning dangerously far from her stepladder to grab the last jar from the top shelf. “Why are you telling  _ me _ this again? Here,” she added, reaching down to add it to Will’s collection.

“Because Murphy and the others kicked me out for talking too much about it ,” Will grumbled, pouting, then grinned up at her. “And also because you are my dear friend and care deeply about both me and Vincent.”

“Hrm.” Eliza climbed down the ladder and jumped the last few steps to the ground. As ever, Will was impressed by her agility in heels. “Go put that lot on the table in the back room,” she said, nodding towards the door behind the counter. “I’ll sort ‘em out later.”

“Why am I doing all the carrying?” Will asked, already making his way over. 

“Because I’m making the tea.”

“Fair enough.”

“And I gotta make sure you’re strong enough for the job.”

Pausing in his attempt to open the door with his hands full, Will looked back over his shoulder. “Job?”

“You said you were looking for one right?” Eliza replied casually. “And I already told ya I need someone else. You spend half your time here as is, might as well get paid for it. Not religious, right? You can work either Saturdays or Sundays, take your pick, and we’ll work out weekdays with your timetable.”

“I think normally when filling a vacancy the standard practice is to wait for someone to apply, not simply tell your friend they work here now,” Will said, smilling.

Eliza raised an eyebrow. “Is that a no?”

“Not at all. I’d love to. Though, Eliza, if you desired more of my delightful company you could have just  _ asked. _ ”

“Right now I’m  _ asking _ you to put those in the back room so we can have our damn tea,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes, and Will found it strange how quickly he’d got used to the affection in her voice. Despite their differences, they got on well, and she never begrudged his presence. Perhaps, without Vincent around, she was a little lonely at times too. 

Soon they were comfortably settled in the corner, both cupping a mug in their hands and enjoying the moment of rest after a busy day. Will was still working hard to avoid falling further behind in class, and since Eliza’s involvement in the whole affair had got about she’d had a noticeable rise in customers, though not necessarily sales.

“Alright,” Eliza eventually said. “I know I said I’m  _ not _ going to tell you how to solve all your problems, but this one’s so simple I’m kinda worried if you didn’t think of it. Just send him a damn letter.”

Will sighed, slumping back against the staircase and disturbing Parsley, who  _ mrowed _ in annoyance and leapt over to Eliza’s lap. Unfaithful creature. “It’s not that simple. Should I wait for him to send me one first? What if he already has but then I send mine and he gets it and thinks I ignored everything he said? Would a letter be able to arrive by now?”

“I got one yesterday,” Eliza said, smirking slightly. “He’s fine, if that’s what you’re gonna ask.”

“What else did he say?”

“He said not to be a nosey git and to get your own letter.”

“I’m doing my best!”

“Aside from actually sending him one he can reply to.”

“Aside from that,” Will had to agree. He held his arm - it was almost healed already, but the action had become a habit - and dropped his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Biggest loudmouth in Widdershins at a loss for words? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not funny…”

Eliza snorted. “It’s a bit funny.”

It was hard not to smile. He was the great Will Sharpe, confident to the extreme, brought low by the sweetest boy in existence. “Fine, a little bit. That doesn’t help me work out what to say though.”

“Well, what do you think?”

Will drummed his fingers on his thigh, his eyes drifting around the room. “I should write something romantic, I suppose?” he said. “Like in the novels, with poetry and gradious declarations and -” He noticed Eliza’s expression. “Or… a completely normal letter about what I’ve been doing, and ask him how he is?” he amended, which was what he’d wanted in the first place.

Eliza grinned. “Attaboy. Now you’re getting the hang of it. Maybe by the time he’s back, you’ll be able to have  _ normal _ date.”

“I hope not,” Will replied. He and Vincent were anything but normal. He was getting that now. He wouldn’t want it any other way. “Where’s the fun in that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh huh so it's like properly completely over now, wild. This epilogue was one of the first scenes I imagined for this and probably the least changed from idea to now (except for adding in Will working part-time for Eliza now, because them together is the best and I couldn't leave it out!)
> 
> Umm feel like in my numerous lowkey incomprehendible notes I've already said most things I want to say about this one, so just thanks for reading and for all the comments, they really spurred me on when I decided I needed to completely change large swathes of things literally on update day and also made me smile, hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> Oh and extra big thx 2 Beth for reading every chapter to reassure me I was only having a crisis and this wasn't unreadable, finding out uses for arsenic for me, helping me work out Knotty's dad and generally yeah, thank you!


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